BEFORE  AN  AUDIENCE; 


OB. 


IHE  USE  OF  THE  WILL  IN  PUBLIC  SPEAKING. 


TALKS    TO    THE   STUDENTS    OF 

THE    UNIVERSITY    OF    ST.    ANDREWS    AND 

THE    UNIVERSITY    OF    ABERDEEN. 


BY 


NATHAN    SHEPPARD 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SHUT  CP  IN  PARIS  ;  "  EDITOR  OP  "  DARWINISM  STATED  BY  DARWIN 

HIMSELF;  "  "THE  DICKENS  READER;"  "CHARACTER  READINGS  FROM 

GEORGE  ELIOT;"  AND  "GEORGE  ELIOT'S  ESSAYS." 


FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY, 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON. 


Bntereri,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tne  year  1886 

By  PUNK  &  WAGNALLS, 
IB  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  O.  C 


BeWcatt* 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OP 

JOHN  TULLOCH,  D.D., 

PRINCIPAL    OF    ST.     MARY'S    COLLEGE,    UNIVERSITY    OF    ST. 
ANDREWS,  BUT  FOR  WHOSE  WORDS   OF   COMMENDA- 
TION  AND   ENCOURAGEMENT    THESE    TALKS 
WOULD     NEVER    HAVE    BEEN 
PUBLISHED. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY vU 

L  A  GOOD  SPEAKING  VOICE  TO  BE  ACQUIRED  BY  AN 

EXERCISE  OF  THE  WILL 11 

IL  ARTICULATION  TO  BE  ACQUIRED  BY  AN  EXERCISE  OP 

THE  WILL 19 

ILu  PHYSICAL  EARNESTNESS.. 39 

IV.  THE  SELF-RELIANCE  FOR  PUBLIC  SPEAKING 41 

V.  THE  ART  OF  BEING  NATURAL 60 

VL  THE  DRAMATIC  ELEMENT  IN  PUBLIC  SPEAKING 77 

VII.  THE  RHETORIC  FOR  PUBLIC  SPEAKING 93 

VIIL  A  TALK  ABOUT  AUDIENCES 116 

IX.  How  TO  THINK  OF  SOMETHING  TO  SAY 133 

X.  THE  BIGHT  SHAPE  FOR  AN  AUDIENCE-ROOM 146 


rNTKODUOTORY. 


WHEN  I  was  lecturing  in  Great  Britain  I  gave  these 
talks  on  Public  Speaking  to  the  students  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  St.  Andrews  and  the  students  of  the  University 
of  Aberdeen.  I  was  so  much  encouraged  by  the  com- 
mendation they  received  from,  not  only  the  students, 
but  the  principals  and  professors  who  did  me  the  honor 
to  attend,  that  I  continued  to  give  them  at  other  univer- 
sities and  colleges,  notably  at  Allegheny  College,  Mead- 
ville,  Pa. ,  where  I  spent  some  of  the  happiest  hours  of 
my  life  as  a  lecturer  and  teacher. 

They  were  fragmentary  then,  they  are  fragmentary 
now.  So  is  all  truth,  so  are  all  facts. 

What  I  say  in  these  talks  I  say  from  experience,  from 
a  long,  hard-earned,  and  painful  experience.  I  know 
something  of  the  ecstasy  that  accompanies  success,  and  I 
have  had  my  share  of  the  torture  that  comes  with  failure 
in  this  perplexing  and  elusive  art. 

When  I  made  up  my  mind  to  devote  my  mind  and 
body  to  public  speaking,  I  was  told  by  my  tutors  and 
governors  that  I  would  certainly  fail ;  that  my  articu- 
lation was  a  failure,  and  it  was  ;  that  my  voice  was 
feeble,  and  it  was  ;  that  my  organs  of  speech  were  inad- 
equate, and  they  were  ;  and  that  if  I  would  screw  up 
my  little  mouth  it  could  be  put  into  my  mother's  thim- 
ble, and  it  could.  Stinging  words  these  certainly  were, 
and  cruel  ones.  I  shall  never  forget  them  ;  possibly, 


Vlll  INTRODUCTORY. 

however,  they  stnng  me  into  a  persistency  which  I  would 
never  have  known  but  for  these  words.  At  all  events, 
that  is  the  philosophy  of  the  "  self-made"  world  of  man- 
kind. I  may  not  have  accomplished  much,  I  do  not 
claim  to  have  accomplished  much.  It  is  something  to 
have  made  a  living  out  of  my  art  for  twenty  years,  and 
that  I  do  claim  to  have  done  in  spite  of  every  obstacle 
and  every  discouragement  by  the  method  herein  recom- 
mended to  others,  by  turning  my  will  upon  my  voice 
and  vocal  organs,  by  cultivating  my  elocutionary  instinct 
and  my  ear  for  the  cadences  of  rhetoric,  by  knowing 
what  I  and  my  voice  and  my  feelings  were  about,  by 
making  the  most  of  myself. 

I  increased  my  voice  tenfold,  doubled  my  chest,  and 
brought  my  unoratorical  organs  somewhat  into  subjection 
to  my  will.  If  I  had  taken  the  common  advice  and 
"  forgotten  myself,"  I  would  have  lost  myself  and  my 
bread  and  butter.  If  I  had  been  "  wholly  absorbed  in 
my  subject,"  my  subject  would  have  been  wholly 
absorbed  in  my  epiglottis.  If  I  had  contented  myself 
with  acquiring  the  "emphasis"  or  "rendering"  of 
Hamlet's  soliloquy,  or  Tell's  address  to  the  mountains, 
as  furnished  by  the  professional  emphasizers  and  ren- 
derers,  I  would  never  have  earned  enough  by  public 
speaking  to  keep  my  family  on  oatmeal. 

However,  I  have  no  quarrel  with  the  elocutionists  so 
long  as  they  keep  to  their  own,  and  by  no  means  unim- 
portant, sphere — the  teaching  of  acting  and  dramatic 
reading.  But  I  do  not  believe  that  they  can  teach  a 
man  how  to  deliver  his  own  speech  by  teaching  him  the 
rendering  of  another  man's  oration — especially  if,  as  is 
generally  the  case,  the  other  man's  composition,  with 
which  they  coach  their  pupils,  is  in  the  highest  form  of 
dramatic  poetry  instead  of  the  commonplace  form  of 


INTRODUCTORY.  It 

one's  own  discourse.  Dramatic  recitation  is  a  side-show, 
public  speaking  is  the  serious  business  of  life.  In  fact, 
I  do  not  believe  that  the  art  of  public  speaking  can  be 
taught  by  any  one,  and  certainly  not  by  one  who  knows 
nothing  about  it  from  actual  experience.  I  do  not  pro- 
fess in  these  pages  to  teach  it.  I  am  simply  trying  here 
to  give  the  speaker  some  hints  by  which  he  shall  see  how 
he  can  teach  himself. 

My  subject  is  not  elocution,  or  emphasis,  or  dramatic 
reading,  or  gesticulation,  but  public  speaking.  My 
object  is  not  the  training  of  the  arms  or  legs,  or  larynx, 
or  the  facial  muscles.  My  object  is  not  to  lay  on  rules 
from  without,  but  to  awaken  the  will  and  the  instincts 
that  the  speaker  finds  within.  I  would  induce  him  to 
cultivate  his  will,  his  ear  for  his  elocution,  and  his  eye 
for  his  audience.  I  would  have  him  know  what  he  is 
about,  and  how  to  make  the  most  of  himself  when  he 
gets  upon  his  legs  before  an  audience.  I  do  not  propose 
to  teach  him  how  to  entertain  by  a  display  of  elocu- 
tionary recitations,  which  is  child's  play,  but  to  give  him 
some  suggestions  that  may  enable  him  to  reach,  and 
move,  and  influence  men  by  means  of  sermon,  lecture, 
speech,  or  plea,  which  is  man's  work.  "What  I  have 
found  indispensable  to  myself  I  here  publish  for  the 
benefit  of  others — of  those,  at  any  rate,  who  are  young 
enough  to  be  ignorant,  and  teachable  enough  to  admit  it. 


BEFOEE   AH  AUDIENCE. 


I. 

A  GOOD  SPEAKING  VOICE  TO  BE  ACQUIRED 
BY  AN   EXERCISE  OF  THE  WILL. 

A  FEW,  a  very  few  public  speakers  have  what  the 
public  speaker  needs  first  of  all,  and  in  many  cases  most 
of  all — a  good  speaking  voice,  a  suitable  and  adequate 
voice  for  public  speaking.  A  few,  a  very  few  compar- 
atively, have  such  a  voice  by  Nature  ;  and  even  where 
Nature  confers  the  blessing  of  a  voice  of  adequate 
strength,  she  seldom  adds  the  desirable  flexibility  or 
modulation.  So,  whether  it  be  a  stronger  voice  or  a 
more  manageable  one  that  the  speaker  needs,  his  only 
method  of  acquiring  it  is  that  of  willing  it  into  his  pos- 
session. I  say  the  only  method,  because  this  is  the  only 
method  by  which  the  speaker  is  enabled  to  appropriate, 
and  really  make  his  own,  the  new  and  necessary  voice. 
All  other  methods  fail  in  this  crucial  test  of  appropria- 
tion. 

Take,  for  example,  the  method  of  imitative  elocution. 
[t  proceeds  upon  the  fallacious  assumption 

that  a  good  speaking  voice  may  be  acquired   Im|tative  E1°- 
,  &  .  .  •         <•  i       cution  will  not 

by  acquiring  the  voice  of  an  actor  or  elo-        answer 

cutionist,  and  that  in  order  to  teach  the 

art  of  Public  Speaking  you  have  only  to  teach  the  art  of 


12  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

dramatic  recitation.  The  failure  of  this  method  is  no 
more  conspicuous  than  the  reason  for  the  failure.  The 
dramatic  reader  does  not  appropriate  the  voice  which  he 
has  acquired  by  imitation  from  his  "  lessons  in  elocu- 
tion." He  does  not  assimilate  it,  does  not  make  it  his 
own.  He  cannot  converse  in  it.  It  is  the  voice  of  a 
"  part,"  which  the  reciter  or  actor  is  playing.  You  will 
notice  that  the  voice  with  which  the  dramatic  reader 
informs  the  audience  what  he  intends  to  read  is  a  very 
different  voice  from  that  with  which  he  reads.  It  is  only 
while  the  student  in  elocution  is  "  speaking  his  piece" 
under  the  tuition  of  his  coacher  that  he  speaks  in  the 
dignified  bass  or  the  melodious  baritone.  If  he  happens 
to  discuss  the  method  he  is  pursuing  he  will  demonstrate 
its  absurdity  by  dropping  it  just  where  it  ought  to  be  of 
service  to  him — in  his  colloquial  voice.  That  remains  as 
undignified  and  as  unmelodious  as  ever,  and  yet  that 
colloquial  voice,  as  we  propose  to  show  hereafter,  is  the 
speaker's  main  dependence.  Furthermore,  the  dignity 
of  the  recitation  sounds  as  artificial  as  the  want  of  it  in 
conversation  is  natural. 

The  preacher  may  succeed  in  manufacturing  a  voice  oi 

some  merit  while  imitating  the  elocutionist  who  drills 

him   into,   or  drills  into  him,    the  voice  of  the  ideal 

Hamlet.     But  when  the  preacher  ceases  to  appear  in  his 

"  part"  and  reappears  in  his  pulpit,  he  reappears  in  his 

own  voice,  which  may  sound  more  like  the 

fys*0      vulgar  falsetto  of  the  grave-diggers  than 

Voice  of  no     the  well-bred  baritone  of  the  Prince  of 

Use  to  those    Denmark. 

who  would         Nor  doeg  the  public  speaker  need  les- 

.earn    ow    >   gons  ^  bronchiai  anatomy  in  order  to  learn 

how  to  create  a  good  speaking  voice.    The 

anatomical  illustrations  in  the  books  on  elocution  are  of 


JL   GOOD   SPEAKING   VOICE.  13 

no  more  consequence  than  their  triangles  alive  with  tad- 
poles, or  their  pictorial  examples  in  the  awful  art  of 
gesticulation.  A  chart  of  the  windpipe  is  of  no  more 
value  to  the  public  speaker  than  a  picture  of  a  bagpipe 
is  to  the  opera- singer. 

The  Public  Speaker  has  no  use  for  the  physiology  of 
the  voice.  It  is  quite  immaterial  to  him  whether  his 
voice  is  produced  by  the  larynx  or  the  calf  of  the  leg. 
It  is  not  of  the  slightest  assistance  to  him  to  be  informed 
that  "  nasality  is  produced  by  the  lowering  of  the  velum 
on  one  side  and  the  lifting  up  of  the  base  of  the  tongue 
on  the  other."  He  will  get  rid  of  his  nasality,  not  by 
talking  about  it,  but  by  talking  without  it.  The  only 
way  to  avoid  it  is — to  avoid  it.  No  drunkard  was  ever 
reformed  by  a  diagnosis  of  delirium  tremens.  If  there 
is  no  will  of  his  own  to  appeal  to,  no  appeal  will  be  of 
any  avail.  You  may  make  him  weep,  but  you  cannot 
make  him  act.  You  cannot  reach  a  bad  habit  unless  you 
set  the  will  against  it.  A  bad  voice  is  a  bad  habit,  to 
be  got  rid  of  just  as  any  other  bad  habit  is  to  be  got  rid 
of,  by  turning  the  will  upon  it  ;  a  good  voice  is  a  good 
habit  to  be  acquired,  just  as  any  other  good  habit  is  to 
be  acquired,  by  setting  the  will  to  acquire  it.  If  your 
voice  has  a  tendency  to  go  up,  you  are  to  do  with  it  just 
as  you  should  do  with  your  elbow  if  it  has  a  tendency  to 
go  up  at  the  table — put  it  down  and  keep  it  down  by  an 
exercise  of  the  will.  Will  it  down,  and  put  it  down, 
and  keep  it  down  until  it  stays  down  without  a  conscious 
exercise  of  the  will. 

You   canno*   acquire  an  adequate  and    The  SinSm2 
,  ,  .  ,  .  .  Voice  will  not 

enduring  speaking  voice  by  acquiring  an        ans^r 

adequate    and    occasional   singing   voice. 

The  speaker's  voice  is  a  perpetual  voice  for  perpetual 

use — the  singer's  and  the  elocutionist's  is  an  occasional 


14  BEFORE    AN    AUDIENCE. 

voice  for  occasional  exhibition.  The  elocutionist's  voice 
is  the  voice  of  the  elocutionist,  the  singer's  that  of  the 
singer,  the  speaker's  that  of  the  man.  So  that  no  more 
dependence  can  be  placed  on  lessons  in  singing  than  on 
lessons  in  imitative  elocution,  or  dramatic  recitation,  for 
creating  a  competent  speaking  voice,  since  the  speaker 
must  have  a  voice  of  his  own,  and  that  he  cannot  have 
unless  he  has  a  will  of  his  own. 

Here  again  how  different  the  two  voices — the  voice  of 
the  preacher  when  he  "  leads  the  singing"  and  the  voice 
of  the  same  preacher  when  he  reads  the  hymn,  or  de- 
claims his  sermon,  or  reads  his  "  notices"  !  A  good 
singing  voice  is  not  a  good  speaking  voice.  They  are 
entirely  different  voices. 

But,  while  we  are  careful  to  observe  just  where  these 
two  arts  (singing  and  speaking)  part  company,  let  us  be 
equally  careful  to  observe  how  far  and  in  what  respects 
they  travel  together.  Where  there's  a  will  there's  a 
way  in  both  arts,  and  in  all  arts. 

As  the  singer's  new  depths  of  voice  gradually  come 
into  his  possession,  so  that  he  finally  uses  them  without 
much  of  an  effort  of  the  will,  so  the  new  reaches  of  voice 
acquired  by  the  speaker  as  the  reward  of  many  dogged 
exertions  of  the  will  come  at  last  as  unconsciously  as 
breathing.  The  singer  sings  in  his  acquired  voice  only 
when  he  sings,  which  is  once  in  a  while  ;  the  speaker 
speaks  in  his  acquired  voice  whenever  he  speaks,  which 
is  whenever  he  speaks  in  public  or  private,  which  is 
about  all  the  time. 

But  one  lesson  we  may  learn  from  these  kindred  but 
differently  acquired  arts — they  are  made  to  turn  upon 
the  acquisition  of  a  suitable  voice.  Singers  and  actors, 
or,  rather,  their  trainers,  make  everything  of  the  voice. 
They  put  their  pupils  through  a  laborious  and  protracted 


A    GOOD    SPEAKING   VOICE.  15 

discipline  in  order  to  exorcise  a  bad  voice  and  substitute 
a  good  one,  or  to  build  up  an  incompetent  voice  into  one 
of  adequacy  and  efficiency.  But  alas  !  what  singers 
value  we  resign.  "What  can  be  attained  in  every  other 
art  only  by  wearisome  and  exacting  discipline  may  be 
attained  in  public  speaking,  we  are  told,  by  ' '  forgetting 
yourself  and  thinking  only  of  your  subject  !" 

The  pupil  in  vocal  music  "  practises"  occasionally,  the 
pupil  in  public  speaking  must  "  practise"     speak  in  the 
incessantly  ;  that  is,  he  is  to  speak  in  the    Tones  which 
coveted  tones  whenever  he  speaks,  wheth-     7°u  wish  to 
er  in  public  or  in  private.    And  as,  on  the        Acquire, 
one  hand,  the  pupil  in  singing  may  talk  in  whatever 
voice  he  chooses  so  long  as  he  sticks  to  his  "  part"  while 
singing,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  the  pupil  in  speaking  will 
find  that  however  much  or  well  he  may  sing  in  a  bari- 
tone, he  will  still  talk  in  the  key  of  the  cockatoo. 

You  are  invariably,  not  occasionally,  but  invariably  to 
use  the  strongest  tone  you  can  create.  Joke  in  it  and 
converse  in  it  and  shout  in  it  and  whisper  in  it.  Yes, 
and  think  in  it.  You  can  think  in  it  (after  you  know 
how)  as  easily  as  you  can  speak  in  it.  Great  actors 
know  how.  They  go  over  their  "  part"  with  vehement 
reflection.  The  late  Mrs.  Siddons  spent  hours  of  silent 
meditation  upon  hers.  It  is  not  an  occasional  exercise  I 
am  talking  about,  like  the  "  lessons  in  elocution"  with 
which  the  quacks  lie  in  wait  at  the  pockets  of  preachers, 
who  ought  to  know  from  experience  that  the  root  of  the 
matter  is  in  the  intellect,  the  reason,  the  understanding, 
the  reflective  faculties,  the  perceptive  faculties,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  faculties. 

We  Americans  must  remember  that  our  climate  is 
against  us  in  this,  as  well  as  in  some  other  departments 
ui  cnaracter  development.  It  thins  the  voice  as  well  as 


16  BEFORE    AN    AUDIENCE. 

the  cheeks,  and  attenuates  our  tones  as  well  as  our  phy- 
sique. The  French  books  on  the  voice  call  our  nasality 
an  infirmity,  and  classify  it  with  lisping  and  stammering. 
They  say  it  is  congenital,  and  is  sometimes  produced  by 
an  injury  to  the  brain  or  a  defect  in  the  organs  of  speech. 
Their  nasality  is  the  real  one.  They  really  do  sing 
through  their  noses.  Our  nasal  passage  is  closed  while 
we  produce  the  misnamed  nasal  sounds.  This  can  easily 
be  proved  by  holding  your  nose  while  you  speak. 
However,  this  so-called  American  nasality  was  common 
enough  in  England  before  there  were  any  United  States 
Americans.  Macaulay  speaks  of,  and  covertly  explains 
while  he  speaks  of  "  the  nasal  psalmody  of  the  Puri- 
tans." It  was  an  hereditary  head-note  with  something 
besides  the  climate  in  its  origin,  and  is  now  in  use 
among  those  who  are  unconscious  of  both  its  use  and 
its  history.  It  comes  under  the  head  of  ''reversion," 
and  the  sooner  it  is  dispensed  with  the  better  for  both 
the  cause  of  sincerity  and  the  art  of  public  speaking. 

But  whatever  be  its  name,  or  nature,  or  origin,  or 
cause,  this  offensive  tone  and  every  other  offensive  tone 
can  only  be  effectively  and  permanently  removed  by  will- 
ing its  removal.  It  is  sufficient  for  the  elocutionist  and 
actor  and  singer  to  get  rid  of  it  occasionally,  and  even 
then  only  by  a  use  of  the  will ;  but  the  public  speaker 
must  rid  himself  of  it  perpetually,  since  it  is  perpetually 
that  his  art  calls  for  its  removal. 

This    new   voice    is  a  new  language, 
Acquiring  a     and   should   be  desired  and   acquired  as 

New  Voice  is    gucn      j^  necessitates  pain*  and  thought 
like  Acquiring         ,  .  ..,..? 

a  New         anc*  consecration  and  continuity  like  that 

Language,      bestowed   upon   the    acquisition    of    any 

other  foreign  language,   and,   like  every 

other  foreign  language,  you  will   never  learn  to  con- 


A    GOOD   SPEAKING   VOICE.  17 

verse  in  it  or  speak  in  public  in  it  nnless  you  talk  in  it 
incessantly. 

In  spite  of  your  utmost  exertions  it  will  slip  away 
from  you  often  before  you  get  hold  of  it  permanently. 
You  will  forget  and  forget  and  forget  this  lesson  in  self- 
discipline  and  self -drill,  and  knowing  what  you  and  your 
voice  are  about,  and  find  yourself  saying,  "  How  are 
you  ?"  or,  "  What  a  hot  summer  we  are  having  !"  or, 
"  Let  us  sing  the  forty-fifth  hymn,"  or,  "  May  it  please 
the  Court,  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,"  in  the  old  natural 
falsetto  which  came  to  you  through  negligence,  instead 
of  the  new  and  equally  natural  baritone  which  comes  to 
you  by  the  use  of  the  will  and  knowing  what  you  and 
your  voice  are  about. 

The  value  of  a  vigorous,  flexible,  mellow  baritone  for 
public  speaking  cannot  be  overestimated.  It  is  a  richly 
paying  investment.  It  covers  a  multitude  of  minor  sins. 
It  compensates  somewhat  for  deficiencies  in  rhetoric  and 
thought.  There  is  health  in  it,  and  dignity  and  manli- 
ness and  character. 

This  method  of  cultivating  the  voice  leads  to  the  culti- 
vation of  an  ear  for  it.     Without  such  an 
ear  for  his  voice,  the  speaker  will  know     Cultivate  an 
i          \i,      j  fi  •        •          s    v.'       Ear  for  your 
no   more   about    the   deficiencies   of    his      own  voice. 

voice  than  any  other  deaf  person  knows 
about  the  deficiencies  of  his.  Command  over  the  voice 
is  impossible  without  familiarity  with  it.  The  deaf  mute 
is  mute  from  ignorance  of  his  vocal  organs.  He  does 
not  know  that  he  has  the  organs  of  speech,  much  less 
the  power  to  exercise  them.  It  is  only  recently  that  an 
attempt  has  been  made  to  remove  this  ignorance  and 
awaken  this  sense  of  power — or,  in  other  words,  to  get 
at  and  get  hold  of  and  induce  the  mute  to  lay  hold  of  his 
will.  Much  of  the  prevailing  indistinctness  is  owing  to 


18  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

a  similar  ignorance.  The  speaker  has  never  made  the 
acquaintance  of  his  own  voice.  Like  the  deaf  person, 
he  does  not  know  where  it  is  going,  or  where  it  is  failing 
to  go,  what  it  is  doing,  or  what  it  is  failing  to  do. 

He  is  so  "  earnest"  and  "  pious"  and  so  "  absorbed  in 
his  subject"  that  his  subject  is  absorbed  by  his  windpipe. 
He  cannot  hear  himself  as  others  hear  him.  The  first 
time,  however,  that  a  really  earnest  speaker,  especially 
if  he  is  a  preacher,  and  one  who  is  rationally  absorbed  in 
his  subject,  hears  his  own  voice,  he  will  be  open  to  con- 
viction on  the  subject  of  its  deficiencies  and  ineffi- 
ciencies. 

The  speaker  can  have  command  orer  his  voice  only  by 
familiarity  with  it — with  its  capacity  and  incapacity,  its 
successes  and  its  failures.  His  first  attempt  to  listen  to 
it  will  convince  him  of  his  ignorance  of  it.  One  of  the 
primary  elements  of  the  elocutionary  instinct  is  a  good 
ear  for  your  own  voice.  And  this  ear  for  his  own  voice 
is  indispensable  to  the  speaker,  and  is  susceptible  of  a 
high  degree  of  cultivation.  Contrariwise  the  neglect  of 
this  ear,  especially  in  early  life,  is  disastrous  in  the  ex- 
treme. 

We  are  to  remember  that  the  tones  of  the  voice  are 
somewhat  the  result  of  temperament.  Those  of  Sir 
Charles  Manners  were.  The  "  order"  that  he  compelled 
in  the  House  of  Commons  was  in  the  voice  that  called 
for  it.  Now  the  temperament  may  be  controlled, 
changed  even  by  an  exercise  of  the  will.  The  history 
of  religious  sects  prove  that.  It  ought  to  be  very  much 
less  of  an  undertaking  to  regulate  and  modulate  the 
voice  than  to  reconstruct  the  entire  constitution,  mental, 
moral,  and  physical,  as  has  been  done  by  the  followers 
of  George  Fox  and  John  Knox. 


n. 

ARTICULATION    TO    BE    ACQUIRED  BY  AN 
EXERCISE  OF  THE  WILL. 

ARTICULATION  deserves  a  chapter  of  its  own,  as  it  cer- 
tainly deserves  a  treatment  of  its  own  at  the  hands,  or, 
rather,  mouth,  of  any  man  or  woman  who  seeks  a  living 
or  renown  by  means  of  the  most  perplexing  and  elusive 
of  the  arts — the  art  of  public  speaking. 

It  is  impossible  to  overstate  the  importance  of  a  good, 
trustworthy,  uniform  articulation  to  the  public  speaker. 
He  can  have  no  more  useful  form  of  ability  than  audi- 
bility. Distinctness  is  vital,  indistinctness  is  fatal.  And 
the  defect  of  indistinctness  is  as  common  as  it  is  radical, 
[t  is  more  complained  of  than  any  other  defect  known 
to  the  audience-room  except  the  audience-room  itself,  of 

which  we  shall  speak  emphatically  here- 
.  The  Vice  of 

llter<  Indistinctness. 

Illustrations  and  examples  of  the  pre- 
vailing  vice   of  indistinctness  in   public   speaking  are 
abundant.     A  few  will  answer  our  purpose.     This  one 
is  taken  from  The  Times  (London)  : 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Times : 

SIB  :  In  reference  to  Mr.  G.  H.  Moore's  letter  in 
your  journal  of  this  day,  I  beg  to  state  that,  though  Mr. 
Moore  began  his  speech  in  a  deliberate  and  audible 
manner,  he  afterward  broke  into  a  rapid  style  of  utter- 
ance, and  many  of  his  words  were  spoken  in  so  low  a 


20  ,      BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

tone  that  they  could  not  be  perfectly  heard  by  any  one 
at  a  distance.  Mr.  Moore  must  know  that  he  did  not 
make  himself  always  understood,  for  an  hon.  member 
sitting  near  him  asked  at  one  part  of  his  speech  what  it 
was  that  he  said,  and  thereupon  Mr.  Moore  repeated  the 
words. 

March  10.  YOUR  REPORTER. 

Another  hon.  member  hopes  the  editor  "  will  allow 
him  to  make  two  corrections  in  the  report  of  his  speech 
— a  much  better  report  than  my  rapidity  of  utterance  (a 
defect  which  I  will  endeavor  to  correct)  would  entitle  me 
to  obtain."  Other  M.P.'s  are  not  so  tractable  under 
this  criticism.  I  have  known  an  old  lord  to  be  highly 
nettled,  indeed,  to  think  that  anybody  should  presume 
to  question  his  audibility.  Whenever  Count  Beust  rose 
to  speak  in  the  Austrian  Parliament,  members  who 
wished  to  hear  him  were  obliged  to  collect  around  him, 
and  we  are  told  that  ' '  the  scene  represented  more  a 
private  conference  than  the  public  discussions  of  a  Par- 
liament." 

I  will  undertake  to  say  that  of  the  thousands  of 
preachers,  lawyers,  and  lecturers  who  have  this  slovenly 
precipitancy,  not  a  baker's-dozen  would,  in  the  first 
place,  join  this  Member  of  Parliament  in  admitting  it. 
How,  then,  can  they,  in  the  second  place,  "  endeavor  to 
correct  it"  ?  How  is  the  habit  of  indis- 

Indistinctness     ,.  i  j  i  i 

is  a  Physical    tmctness  to   "6  cured,   unless  you  know 
Defect  and      what  your  voice  is  about  ? 
Distinctness         Indistinctness  is  a  physical  defect,  and 
a  Physical      distinctness  is  a  physical  attainment,  and 
the  one  is  to  be  removed  and  the  other 
acquired,  not  by  "  forgetting  yourself  and  thinking  only 
of  your  subject,"  but  by  remembering  yourself  and 


ARTICULATION  TO   BE   ACQUIRED.  21 

thinking  of  your  object,  by  an  exercise  of  the  will,  by 
turning  an  ear  upon  your  own  voice,  by  knowing  what 
you  and  your  larynx  are  about.  Indistinctness  is  as 
natural,  too,  as  it  is  common  and  injurious.  It  is  a  part 
of  that  natural  elocution  which  comes  to  us  when  we  get 
upon  our  legs  before  an  audience.  It  is  as  natural  for 
some  of  us  (your  humble  servant,  for  example)  to  be 
inarticulate,  indistinct,  precipitate,  as  it  is  for  some 
others  of  us  to  be  free  from  this  defect — Gladstone,  for 
example,  and  John  Bright,  and  Spurgeon,  and  Dr.  Lid- 
don,  and  Wendell  Phillips,  and  Charles  Sumner,  and 
Henry  Clay,  and  the  late  Mrs.  Siddons,  and  Edwin 
Forrest,  and  Charlotte  Cushman.  These  all  were 
endowed  by  nature  with  a  physical  apparatus  wonder- 
fully well  adapted  for  articulation  or  enunciation. 

Chatham  was  noted  for  his  distinct  articulation,  which 
was  a  physical  attainment  cultivated  with 
assiduous  pains.     His  whisper  penetrated      E°xam°l 
everywhere,  and  his  full  voice  was  over- 
whelming.    "  The  sound  rose  like  the  swell  of  the  organ 
of  a  great  cathedral,  and  shook  the  house  with  its  peal." 
But  whatever  he  was,  he  was  always  distinct,  articulate. 

The  late  Mr.  Grote,  the  historian,  was  entirely  in- 
debted to  his  distinctness  for  the  hearing  he  received. 
That  one  excellence  made  acceptable  subject  matter 
which  would  otherwise  have  failed  to  arrest  attention. 
That  one  excellence  he  maintained  by  the  use  of  his  will, 
by  resolution,  by  knowing  what  he  was  about,  by  making 
the  most  of  himself,  however  little  there  was  of  himself. 
The  less  there  is  of  yourself  the  more  need  for  you  to 
make  the  most  of  what  there  is  of  you. 

Plunkett  overcame  his  stutter  by  turning  his  will  upon 
it,  not  by  forgetting  himself  and  thinking  only  of  his 
subject,  but  by  recollecting  himself  and  thinking  seri- 


22  BEFORE    AN  AUDIENCE. 

ously  of  his  impediment.  He  could  not  speak  rapidly 
without  stuttering,  and  this  compulsory  self-restraint 
made  him  deliberate  and  distinct  where  many  another 
speaker,  who  had  no  such  impediment,  for  want  of  know- 
ing what  he  was  about  would  be  a  failure  through  indis- 
tinctness. 

The  catarrhal  tone  of  the  American  is  heard  farther 
and  more  easily  than  the  asthmatic  tone  of  the  English- 
man, because  it  is  more  penetrating.  Articulation  comes 
easier  to  the  "  Connecticut  treble"  than  to  the  German 
guttural.  Women  excel  men  in  articulation  for  the 
same  reason  :  they  have  a  thinner  voice  and  a  longer 
cadence.  Hence  indistinctness  is  less  excusable  in  the 
ladies  and  the  Americans  than  it  is  in  the  British 
Islander.  One  of  the  most  accomplished  articulators  of 
our  age  was  a  woman — Charlotte  Cushman. 

Charlotte  Cushman  tells  us  that  "  many  young  candi- 
dates for  the  stage  say  to  her  :  '  We  are  fin- 

.£  ''  oiie,  ished  in  elocution,  what  next  shall  we  do  ? ' 
Articulation.  '  Elocution  ? '  I  reply,  '  I  don't  know  what 
it  is.  I  never  studied  elocution  !  God 
gave  me  a  mouth  of  peculiar  conformation,  which  enables 
me  without  an  effort  to  make  a  whisper  heard  to  the  re- 
motest corner  of  a  large  auditorium. ' '  I  can  testify  to 
the  truth  of  this  ;  but  1  should  like  to  see  Miss  Cushman 
try  her  mouth  on  the  large  auditorium  of  an  oblong,  level- 
floored,  high-ceiling  church.  My  word  for  it,  she  would 
be  caught  up  by  a  whirlwind  of  whispers  that  would 
whirl  memory  from  its  seat  in  her  distracted  brain. 

Miss  Cushman  continues  :  "  He  gave  me  a  demon- 
strative soul,  and  a  power  to  express  it.  Whatever  1 
feel,  1  speak  just  as  I  feel  it,  with  the  passion,  the  utter- 
ance which  nature  dictates.  That  is  all  I  know  about 
elocution." 


ARTICULATION   TO    BE    ACQUIRED.  23 

God  gave  Charlotte  Cushman  a  mouth  large  enough 
and  a  soul  demonstrative  enough  for  a  large  auditorium, 
but  how  about  those  of  us  who  have  the  demonstrative 
soul  without  the  adequate  mouth  ?  They  must  make  up 
the  deficiency  by  creating  the  mouth  essential  for  their 
purpose.  If  the  speaker  is  not  endowed  by  God  or  his 
ancestors  with  the  ' '  peculiar  conformation  which  enables 
him  without  an  effort  to  make  himself  heard,"  he  must 
endow  himself  with  it.  If  God  did  not  give  him  an 
adequate  mouth,  he  must  make  the  most  of  his  inade- 
quate one  ;  in  other  words,  he  must  make  his  mouth 
adequate  or  close  it  and  quit,  for  his  demonstrative  soul 
alone  will  not  save  him  or  be  saved  itself. 

Neither  Demosthenes  nor  Edmund  Kean  were  en- 
dowed from  on  high  with  Miss  Cushman's  or  Henry 
Clay's  large  oratorical  mouth  or  peculiar  conformation  ; 
but  they  were  both  abundant  in  "  demonstrative  soul 
and  the  power  to  express  it."  And  it  was  not  by  simply 
being  in  earnest  and  absorbed  in  their  subject ;  it  was 
only  by  an  effort  of  the  will,  conscious,  energetic,  and 
persistent,  that  they  were  enabled  to  make  themselves 
distinctly  heard.  Curran  was  quite  right  when  he 
declared  that  his  shrill  and  fractious  voice  was  "  in  a 
state  of  nature,"  and  he  was  quite  right  in  resolving  to 
bring  it  out  of  a  state  of  nature  into  a  state  of  efficiency, 
which  he  did  by  bringing  his  will  to  bear  upon  it. 

The  M.P.  from  whom  I  have  quoted  confesses  to  his 
"rapidity  of  utterance,"  and  calls  it  "  a  defect  which 
he  will  endeavor  to  correct."  God  did  not  give  him,  or 
me,  a  mouth  that  obviates  the  necessity  of  this  "  correc- 
tion." And  while  we  have  "  studied  elocution"  and  do 
know  what  it  is,  and  know  it  is  utterly  inadequate  and 
frivolous  as  far  as  public  speaking  is-  concerned,  we  do 
also  know  that  Demosthenes,  and  some  of  the  rest  of  us, 


24  BEFORE    AN    AUDIENCE. 

have  had  to  go  through  considerable  discipline,  an<5 
study,  and  "  effort,"  and  exercise  of  the  will,  in  order 
to  make  even  a  tolerably  strong  tone  "  heard  to  the 
remotest  corner  of  a  large  auditorium."  This  disposes  of 
two  extreme  an**  extremely  fallacious  opinions,  the  one 
that  nothing  can  be  done  to  remedy  this  defect,  and  the 
other  that  what  is  to  be  done  is  to  "  study  elocution." 
Something  had  to  be  uone  in  the  case  of  Demosthenes  and 
myself,  although  nothing  need  be  done  in  the  case  of 
Miss  Cushman.  Her  will  is  relieved  of  this  duty,  and 
may  apply  itself  to  others  ;  your  will  must  apply  itself 
to  the  remedy  of  this  disease,  the  removal  of  this  impedi- 
ment ;  for  that  is  what  it  is  —  an  impediment  in  speech. 
The  student  in  public  speaking  cannot  begin  too  soon 
after  his  voice  is  what  is  called  "  formed  "  to  look  after 
it  with  his  will,  and  keep  an  anxious  and 

alert  ear  Up°n  ifc>     Like  eveiy  °ther  habit' 


Admonition  *na*  °^  indistinctness  or  slovenliness  of 
delivery  will  grow  with  the  growth  and 
strengthen  with  the  strength.  A  case  in  point  occurs  to 
me.  It  will  serve  as  an  illustration  and  an  admonition. 
It  is  that  of  a  preacher  who  had  this  habit  of  indistinct- 
ness while  a  student,  but  would  give  no  heed  to  criticism. 
He  considered  such  matters  beneath  one  so  much  "  in 
earnest"  and  so  pious.  He  resented  all  interference  by 
the  critics  of  the  debating  society  in  college,  and  we 
need  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  he  is  now  morbidly 
sensitive  to  the  criticisms  of  his  articulation,  or,  rather, 
his  want  of  it.  Now,  this  wretched  mortal  comes  up  to 
the  severest  requirements  of  the  ordaining  clergy.  He 
is  "  in  earnest.  "  He  is  pious.  He  prays.  He  preaches 
"the  Gospel."  He  "throws  his  whole  heart  and  soul 
into  his  work."  He  "forgets  himself  and  thinks  only 
of  his  subject." 


ARTICULATION  TO    BE   ACQUIRED.  25 

He  has  a  "  demonstrative  soul"  and  power  enough, 
but  not  mouth  enough,  to  express  it.  He  is  a  graduate 
of  the  recitation  system  of  education  and  an  educated 
man  in  spite  of  it.  He  uses  good  rhetoric,  and  writes  a 
good  sermon,  and  it  has  heen  long  enough  since  he  was 
weaned  by  the  theological  seminary  for  him  to  dispense 
the  sincere  milk  of  the  Word  without  depending  ex- 
clusively upon  his  volume  of  theological  lectures  for 
it.  He  had  the  critical  fine-tooth  comb  passed  through 
his  "  class  sermons."  Nay  more,  in  all  probability,  as 
in  several  such  cases,  he  has  been  the  victim  of  misplaced 
elocutionary  confidence,  and  has  taken  expensive  lessons 
in  cheap  dramatics,  and  can  "  render"  certain  passages 
of  Shakespeare  with  almost  as  much  imitative  skill  as  his 
coacher.  And  yet  this  elaborately  and  expensively 
equipped  preacher  is  afflicted  with,  and  afflicts  his 
hearers  with  one  of  the  most  defective  and  therefore 
ineffective  styles  of  elocution  known  to  public  speaking. 
His  elocutionary  instinct  and  judgment  and  taste  are  all 
it  their  lowest  point  of  development.  They  could 
hardly  be  lower.  His  ear  is  a  stranger  to  his  own  voice. 
His  will  is  useless  to  him.  It  is  torpid.  He  "  rows 
wild,"  which  proves  that  he  had  the  wrong  coacher. 
So  there  he  is,  in  spite  of  all  his  "  heart"  and  "  soul  " 
and  "  earnestness,"  his  lessons  in  "  sacred  (!)  rhetoric" 
and  imitative  emphasis  and  gesticulatory  gymnastics  ; 
there  he  is,  tripped,  balked,  and  thrown  perpetually  by 
a  defect  but  for  which  he  would  have  been  one  hundred 
times  as  effective  a  preacher  as  he  is.  Is  the  defect 
worth  getting  rid  of  ?  Is  its  removal  worth  an  effort  ? 
And  if  he  will  not  or  cannot  correct  it,  should  not 
younger  and  more  rational,  even  if  less  "  earnest"  men 
be  forewarned  of  it  and  forearmed  against  it  ?  Can  this 
be  done  by  the  study  of  hermeneutics  any  more  than  by 


36  BEFORE   JIN"   AUDIENCE. 

the  study  of  mathematics  ?  by  praying  for  Whitefield's 
earnestness  any  more  than  by  praying  for  Miss  Gush- 
man's  mouth  ? 

So  far  from  earnestness  being  a  guarantee  of  distinct- 
ness, it  is  often  a  cause  of  indistinctness.     In  fact,  there 
is  no  more  appropriate  name  for  this  well- 
nigh  universal  disease  of  public  speakers 
Earnestness.  r 

than  inarticulate  earnestness.  My  news- 
paper says  in  its  Congressional  report :  ' '  Mr.  Herbert, 
of  Alabama,  opened  the  discussion  to-day  with  a  speech 
in  opposition  to  the  report.  Like  most  of  Mr.  Herbert's 
speeches  which  appear  in  the  Record^  the  effort  of  the 
Alabama  member  was  made  in  unhappy,  explosive,  and 
over -emphatic  oratorical  style,  which  gave  his  delivery 
the  effect  of  indistinctness" — the  effect  of  earnestness 
and  indistinctness. 

Those  who  are  most  in  earnest,  or  most  intense,  or 
most  absorbed  in  their  subject,  are  oftentimes  the  most 
inarticulate,  indistinct,  precipitate,  slovenly  in  enuncia- 
tion. In  proportion  to  their  eagerness  to  be  heard  is 
their  inability  to  make  themselves  heard.  In  proportion 
to  the  importance  they  attach  to  what  they  say  is  the 
difficulty  of  hearing  what  they  say.  This  ludicrous  pan- 
tomime is  acted  in  thousands  of  pulpits  every  Sunday. 
The  awfully  earnest  preacher  will  even  burst  into  tears 
in  the  process  of  uttering  the  inarticulate  sentiment 
which  has  affected  him  so  deeply.  If  you  would  make 
your  hearer  cry,  you  must  cry  yourself,  certainly  ;  but 
if  you  would  let  your  hearer  know  what  you  are  crying 
about,  you  must — tell  him  !  With  a  purely  lachrymosal 
religion,  the  former  is  sufficient  ;  but  if  you  wish  to 
inculcate  a  religion  that  will  compel  a  man  to  not  only 
weep  over  his  sins  in  his  pew,  but  abandon  them  at  the 
counter,  the  latter  is  the  better  method.  The  speaker's 


ARTICULATION   TO    BE   ACQUIRED.  27 

emotions  should  be  as  intelligible  as  his  thoughts,  and 
will  be  if  he  is  not  so  deeply  "  absorbed  in  his  subject" 
as  to  secrete  it  by  an  overworked  lachrymal  gland. 

Another  function  of  the  will  in  public  speaking  is  to 

compel  the  lips  to  form  the  words  and  the 

.     .  Compel  the 

throat  to  make  the  tones.     This  is  mdis-    Lips  to  Form 

pensable  to  a  good  articulation.  No  words  the  Words  and 
formed  by  the  throat  can  be  articulate.  the  Throat  to 

The  attempt  to  form  both  the  tones  and      Crlate  the 

Tones. 

the  words  by  the  throat  is  a  habit  of  in- 
articulate earnestness.  It  is  so  "  absorbed  in  its  sub- 
ject," and  so  intent  upon  "  being  natural,"  that  it  takes 
no  account  of  this  fundamental  law  of  nature.  To  obey 
it  will  require  an  exercise  of  the  will  to  which  the  ' '  earn- 
est "  speaker  has  hitherto  been  a  stranger.  This  so  far 
from  being  the  child's  play  of  lessons  in  dramatic  elocu- 
tion is  a  man's  work  in  self -discipline  and  self-culture. 

So  here  is  your  method  of  curing  the  wretched  mortal 
whom  we  are  diagnosing.    Disease — indis- 
tinctness, precipitancy,  slurring,  slovenli-    Elocution  is  a 
ness,  failing  to  be  distinctly  heard  whether  ^"ac     p^\  7 
he  read  a  notice  or  a  sermon,  everybody       Disorder. 
whispering,  "  What  did  he  say  ?" — in  a 
word,  inarticulate  earnestness.     Remedy — lessons  in  elo- 
cutionary emphatics  and  theatrics,  diagrams  of  the  dia- 
phragm  and  the  windpipe,   and   illustrations  of   "the 
rising  and  falling  inflections,"  and  the  "rendering"  of 
"princes,    potentates,    and   warriors."     Learn  how  to 
speak  one  such  piece  with  deliberation  and  distinctness, 
and  you  will  learn  how  to  deliver  distinctly  and  deliber- 
ately a  Fourth-of -July  oration,  or  a  sermon  on  repent- 
ance, or  an  address  to  a  jury  ! 

There  are  preachers,   scores  of  them,  who  give  fivo 
dollars  a  lesson  for  such  twaddle  as  this,  and  is  there  one 


28  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

that  will  give  one  cent,  or  even  thank  you,  for  telling 
him  that  his  most  serious  obstacle  is  indistinctness,  pre- 
cipitancy, and  the  like,  and  that  it  is  a  physical  obstacle, 
and  only  to  be  cured  by  consciousness  of  it,  by  turning 
the  will  upon  it,  by  knowing  what  he  is  about,  he  and 
his  epiglottis,  he  and  his  words  and  tones,  thoughts  and 
metaphors. 

Will  he  heed  if  he  is  told  that  he  can  only  get  this 
obstacle  out  of  the  way  by  willing  it  away,  by  turning 
his  ear  upon  his  voice,  by  watchfulness,  by  carefulness 
and  drill  and  discipline  that  shall  take  hold  strong 
enough,  and  hold  on  long  enough  to  root  out,  and  kick 
out,  and  keep  out  forever  and  ever  this  pernicious  habit 
of  inarticulate  earnestness  \  No,  he  will  not  heed, 
because  there  is  no  romance  about  this  remedy,  it  is  too 
doggedly  rnatter-of-fact.  There  is  no  gratification  of  a 
silly  boyish  vanity  which  delights,  as  all  little  boys  and 
big  boys  do,  in  learning  how  to  declaim,  and  emphasize, 
and  strike  attitudes,  and  make  gestures,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  Above  all,  it  does  not  cost  money,  it  costs 
only  self -conquest,  which  I  think  Solomon  would  join 
me  in  saying  is  greater  than  the  conquest  of  the  reading 
of  "  Boots  at  the  Holly-Tree  Inn." 


III. 

PHYSICAL  EARNESTNESS. 

WITH  an  adequate  use  of  his  will,  an  adequate  know- 
ing what  he  is  about,  the  speaker  will  make  a  right  use 
of  his  physical  organization — will  be  physically,  as  well 
as  morally  or  spiritually,  in  earnest.  If  he  makes  no  use 
of  his  will,  forgets  it  and  "  thinks  only  of  his  subject," 
or  of  the  laws  of  emphasis  taught  by  the  elocution  books, 
he  will  make  no  use,  or  he  will  make  a  misuse  of  his 
physical  organization.  If  the  will  be  dormant,  the  phys- 
ical organization  will  be  no  assistance  to  him,  will  be  a 
hindrance  to  him  the  rather.  An  inert  physical  organi- 
zation is,  indeed,  conclusive  evidence  of  a  torpid  will. 
Can  there  be  a  more  conclusive  proof  that  the  under- 
standing of  the  speaker  comes  miserably  short  of  its  duty 
than  the  fact  that  it  takes  no  account  of  physical  earnest- 
ness, or  the  working  of  the  body  to  the  advantage  of  the 
mind,  or  the  creating  of  a  voice  for  the  service  of  the 
intellect  ? 

We  are  always  to  bear  in  mind  that  an  impression  is 
produced  by  the  speaker  quite  apart  from  and  often  in 
spite  of  the  words  he  utters.     It  is  a  mes- 
meric influence,  it  is  feeling,  reflection,      An  Animal 
thought  produced  by  the  animal  galvanic      „  a  vamc 
battery  on  two  legs.     An  influence  goes      Two  Legs, 
out  of  the  speaker  into  the  hearer.    Some- 
thing went  out  of  Bonaparte  into  his  soldiers  ;   so  his 
soldiers  said.     Doubtless  the  great  warrior  was  a  great 


30  BEFOKE   AN"   AUDIENCE. 

animal  galvanic  battery  on  two  legs,  or  six  legs,  counting 
the  horse's. 

I  have  no  doubt  Shiel  found  it  greatly  to  the  advan- 
tage of  his  animal  galvanic  battery  on  two  legs  to  leap  to 
his  legs  as  he  did,  and  rush  to  the  clerk's  table  and 
pound  it.  Or,  perhaps,  he  did  it  to  cover  his  confusion 
or  overcome  his  stage-fright,  which  is  the  curse  of  many 
a  speaker  who  is  criticised  for  presumption  and  conceit. 
Mr.  Gladstone  has  something  of  the  same  habit.  He 
springs  to  the  box  with  greyhound  agility,  reminding 
one  of  a  greyhound  in  the  leash,  and  claps  the  box  with 
the  palm  of  his  hand.  Disraeli  once  brought  down  the 
house  by  congratulating  himself  that  the  clerk's  table 
formed  an  insurmountable  barrier  between  him  and  the 
Right  Hon.  gentleman. 

Sir  Robert  Peel  struck  the  box  on  the  table,  we  are 
told,  about  twice  a  minute,  and  "  as  the  box  was  remark- 
able for  its  acoustic  properties,  the  sound  was  distinctly 
heard  in  every  part  of  the  House,  and  considerably  aided 
the  effect  of  his  speech."  Then  he  could  "look  as 
solemn  as  though  he  were  commissioned  to  stand  up  and 
proclaim  that  the  world  has  come  to  an  end." 

Never  allow  yourself  to  go  physically  to  sleep  if  you 
expect  to  keep  yourself  mentally  awake. 

There  is  fallacy  and  mischief  in  tracing  all  the  short- 
comings of  the  preacher  to  his  deficiency  in  moral  or 
Moral  Earnest-  8Piritlial  earnestness,   in    always  nagging 
ness  which  is    the  candidate  at  his  ordination  with  hav- 
common        ing  no  more  conscience  than  Red  Cloud 

enough  is       attributes  to  his  friend  the  enemy  who 

is  so  destitute  of  lands  and  mines  that  the 

Black  Hills  must  be  ours,  forcibly  if  we  can,  peaceably 

if  we  must.     The  "  charge  to  the  candidate,"  as  well  as 

the  ordination  sermon,  seems  to  take  for  granted  what  the 


PHYSICAL  EARNESTNESS.  31 

agricultural  brethren  say  they  do  take  for  granted,  that 
the  young  parson  leaves  his  piety  behind  him  when  he 
emerges  from  the  recitation-room.  Hence,  say  they,  his 
lack  of  "  earnestness."  They  mean  energy,  snap,  animal 
galvanism,  and  all  that  species  of  qualification  which  is 
implied  in  the  "call."  They  mean  that  he  has  ceased 
to  be,  if  he  ever  was,  an  animal  galvanic  battery  on  two 
legs,  and  unless  he  is  that  he  is  all  vanity  and  a  striving 
after  wind.  The  "  charge  to  the  candidate"  sounds 
more  like  the  apprehensive  counsels  of  an  old  missionary 
to  his  "  native  preachers"  than  what  we  would  naturally 
expect  to  hear  a  Christian  son  of  ten  generations  of 
Christians  use  to  another  Christian  son  of  ten  generations 
of  Christians. 

Both  the  agricultural  and  the  ordaining  brethren  are 
confounding  moral  with  physical  earnestness.  No,  the 
defect  of  the  young  neophyte  is  not  moral  or  spiritual, 
it  is  physical ;  though  it  would  be  fair  enough  to  say  that 
the  defect  on  the  part  of  his  theological  trainers  is  moral, 
very  moral  and  very  grave.  They  have  loaded  him  with 
tools  and  have  not  taught  him  the  use  of  them.  They 
have  put  so  much  learning  into  his  head  that  he  was 
obliged  to  take  out  his  brains  to  make  room  for  it.  They 
have  never  once  suggested  to  him  that  he  has  any  will, 
or  galvanic  battery,  or  physical  apparatus  for  rightly  di- 
viding the  bread  of  life,  or  that  he  had  better  make  the 
acquaintance  of  his  own  voice,  and  find  out  what  he  and 
his  epiglottis  are  about  when  he  gets  upon  his  legs  be- 
fore an  audience.  He  knows  his  lessons  in  "  Sacred 
Rhetoric,"  though  he  could  not  tell  for  the  life  of  him 
why  it  is  "sacred,"  and  has  passed  his  examination  in 
Syriac — what  more  does  he  want  ?  And  what  more  can 
the  ordaining  clergy  and  the  rural  laity  demand  ? 

He  is  not  defective  in  the  moral  qualities  which  are 


32  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

brought  to  his  attention  with  such  lugubrious  solicitude. 
As  a  general  rule,  he  is  not  fatally  deficient  in  intel- 
lectual qualifications — or  if  he  is,  why  is  he  allowed  to 
graduate  ?  Here  is  where  all  this  moral  solicitude  might 
come  in  to  advantage.  No.  The  wretched  mortal  will, 
as  a  rule,  do  as  well  as  he  knows.  His  difficulty  is  in 
his  ignorance  of  what  he  should  know,  for  which  he, 
instead  of  his  instructors,  is  visited  with  the  apprehen- 
sions and  reprehensions  of  his  agricultural  brethren. 
He  has  been  (professedly)  in  training  for  a  life  of  public 
speaking,  for  the  art  of  winning  souls,  the  art  of  fishing 
for  men  by  means  of  public  appeal ;  and  he  knows  no 
more  about  how  to  use  these  means  than  a  physician 
would  know  about  how  to  use  his  remedies  if  he  had 
never  seen  them  or  heard  of  them.  What  else  can  you 
expect  of  the  wretched  mortal,  after  he  has  been  so  long 
and  painstakingly  taught  that  he  only  had  to  let  himself 
alone,  in  order  to  graduate  an  effective  preacher  ;  that 
he  must  forget  himself,  and  think  only  of  his  subject ; 
that  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  do  nothing  ? 

ph  '  1  Another  way  of  putting  this  panacea 
not  the  f°r  the  wretched  preacher's  defect  or 
Spiritual  Heart  failure  is  to  "charge"  him  with  "want 
^Needs  a^  of  heart."  If  he  will  only  "throw  his 
whole  heart"  into  his  sermons  he  will 
make  a  successful  preacher.  If  that  be  true  every  un- 
successful preacher  has  failed  for  want  of  sincerity,  or 
common  honesty,  and  every  successful  preacher  has  suc- 
ceeded because  he  was  so  much  superior  to  his  fellows 
in  honesty  and  sincerity  ;  for  the  heart  meant  here  is 
the  moral  nature.  The  statement  is  its  own  refuta- 
tion. What  the  unsuccessful  preacher  needs  is  not 
more  heart  in  the  spiritual,  but  more  heart  in  the 
physical  sense.  He  does  throw  his  whole  soul,  but  not 


PHYSICAL  EARNESTNESS.  33 

his  whole  body,  into  his  work.  He  does  not  make  the 
most  of  himself. 

An  English  newspaper,  complaining  of  the  preachers 
of  the  Church  of  England,  says  :  "  Take  a  Methodist 
preacher  who  has  something  to  say  and  says  it  with  all 
his  heart,  set  him  down  in  village  or  city,  and  he  will  in 
a  short  time  fill  the  commonest  and  baldest  barn.  Let  a 
Church  of  England  minister  display  the  same  enthusiasm, 
and  he  will  have  as  much  success." 

The  Methodist  preacher  "  says  it  with  all  his"  body, 
and  if  the  Church  of  England  preacher  should  "  display 
the  same  enthusiasm, "  it  would  be  a  physical  enthusiasm, 
which  is  just  the  kind  of  "  enthusiasm,"  alias  "  earnest- 
ness," which  the  latter  is  deficient  in,  and  which  twenty- 
seven  thousand  four  hundred  and  fifty-two  other 
preachers  are  deficient  in.  They  do  not  say  it  with  all 
their  physical  heart.  The  preachers  instanced  here  as 
examples  of  "  heart"  are  examples  of  what  self-rousing, 
self -incitement,  physical  animation,  knowing  what  you 
are  about,  however  comes  that  knowledge,  will  do 
toward  firing  the  "  heart"  and  soul  and  mind  and  all 
that  side  of  a  man's  nature.  The  difference  between 
two  such,  or  any  two  preachers,  might  turn  upon  "  say- 
ing it"  or  not  "  saying  it  with  the  whole"  voice,  which 
is  a  physical  qualification.  It  is  said  that  such  people  as 
the  pioneer  preachers  address  can  be  moved  only  by 
preachers  who  "  throw  their  whole  souls  into  their 
work" — who  throw  their  whole  bodies  into  their  work 
is  what  you  mean  ;  else  their  "whole  souls"  must  be 
very  much  superior  to  the  "  whole  souls"  of  their  better 
educated  brethren.  It  is  not  necessary  to  join  in  the 
apprehensions  of  the  ordaining  or  the  agricultural 
brethren,  and  accuse  those  better  educated  preachers  of 
having  "no  soul"  or  "heart"  in  their  work.  They 


34  BEFORE    AN   AUDIENCE. 

have  as  much  spiritual  or  moral  heart  in  their  work  as 
their  unclassically  educated  brethren,  but  they  have  less 
physical  heart  in  it.  They  are  all  soul  and  no  body.  In 
educating  their  minds  they  have  paralyzed  their  hearts. 
They  have  gained  the  whole  world  and  lost  their  bodies. 
A  good  preacher  once  asked  me  what  I  thought  he 
needed  most  to  make  his  speaking  more  effective. 
"  Put  one  thing  into  your  style,"  I  said,  "  and  I'll  let 
you  off."  "  What  is  that  3"  "Vivacity."  He  had 
an  excellent  bass  voice  and  unexceptional  manners,  but 
he  was  monotonously  oratund,  and  getting  more  and 
more  so.  Vivacity  would  improve  his  oratory  and  pro- 
long his  pastorate.  He  could  secure  it.  nut  by  for- 
getting himself  and  thinking  only  of  his  subject  —  that 
he  had  done  for  twenty  years  —  or  by  five-dollar  lessons 
in  imitative  elocution  —  those  he  had  tried  to  his  cost  — 
he  could  secure  vivacity  by  willing  it  into  his  style. 
The  way  to  be  vivacious  is  to  be  vivacious. 
Educating  all  The  education  is  all  done  upon  one  side 

trh*E5tk  out   of  the  man—  the  inside,  the  intellectual 
of  the  Earthern 


Vessel.  8ic*e  —  anc*  **  *ail8  from  not  getting  in  some- 
thing in  the  way  of  "  earnest"  education 
on  the  physical  side  —  the  outside  —  which  it  is  the  fashion 
to  look  upon  as  the  lower  side.  But  it  is  the  side  toward 
the  fish,  and  important  somewhat,  therefore,  if  the  man 
is  to  be  a  fisher  of  men.  It  is  the  side  of  the  emotional 
nature,  which  is  five  eighths  of  a  speaker's,  especially  a 
preacher's,  success.  It  is  the  side  of  common  sense,  of 
practical  judgment,  of  mesmeric  power,  of  vivacity,  of 
unction,  of  adequate  voice,  of  knowing  what  you  are 
about.  How  could  the  June  roses  get  through  their 
education  without  their  lower  side  ?  So  with  great  oaks 
and  great  preachers,  by  their  roots  we  shall  know  them. 
Nature  is  more  inexorable  and  more  impatient  with  her 


PHYSICAL   EAENESTNESS.  35 

cabbage  heads  than  her  human  heads.  The  former 
would  die  before  entering  upon  their  education,  if  they 
were  not  well-rooted  and  grounded  at  the  lower  side  of 
their  nature  ;  the  latter  live  in  a  kind  of  trance  long 
after  the  root  of  the  matter  has  gone  out  of  them,  and 
left  them  all  top.  And  even  there  vegetation  dies,  for 
there  are  no  more  hairs  on  their  heads  than  there  are 
honeysuckles  on  Mont  Blanc.  An  educated  minister  of 
the  Gospel  is  the  only  rush  that  can  grow  without  mire. 
We  must  remember,  however,  that  Nature  never  leaves 
her  vegetable  children  to  themselves,  and  does  wean  her 
intellectual  children,  who  are  expected  to  know  what 
they  are  about  or  perish  from  lack  of  that  knowledge. 
Pull  up  the  blade  that  has  just  formed,  and  you  will 
never  have  the  ear,  much  less  the  full  corn  in  the  ear  ; 
but  a  preacher  can  preach  on  and  on,  with  no  more  juice, 
or  sap,  or  nutriment,  or  animal  life,  or  even  vegetable 
life  in  him  than  there  is  in  last  year's  bird's-nest.  If 
he  has  his  treasure  in  an  earthen  vessel,  he  has  taken 
great  pains  to  take  out  the  earth  before  he  put  in  the 
treasure.  Is  that  the  reason  why  his  flock  answer  their 
prayer  for  a  revival  by  sending  for  a  "  revivalist,"  and 
bring  on  the  "  outpouring"  by  pouring  out  to  hear  him  ? 
Is  the  revivalist's  "earnestness"  of  a  superior  quality, 
or  only  of  another  kind  ? 

AD  this  mesmeric  power  of  which  we  read  so  much 
and  hear  so  much,  now  turning  up  in  the 
shape  of  a  miraculous  gift  from  heaven  in         Animal 
the  hands  (the  hands,  literally)  of  a  mes-       Educate™ 
meric   doctor,   and  now  in   the   familiar         Away, 
ambiguity  of  our  ancient  friends,  Biology 
and  Psychology — all  this,  whatever  it  is,  works  out  from 
the  physical  side  of  our  nature.     And  whatever  may  be 
our  superstitious  notions,  or  scientific  solutions  of  it,  there 


36  BEFORE  AN  AUDIENCE. 

it  is,  the  most  powerful  constituent  element  of  public 
speaking,  or  oratory,  or  fishing  for  men,  or  winning  souls, 
and  all  the  way  down  from  that  to  carrying  an  election 
for  village  constable.  And  it  is  this  supreme  element  of 
power  in  the  art  of  public  speaking  of  which  you  gradu- 
ally and  effectually  deprive  your  student  who  is  to 
depend  upon  public  speaking  for  a  livelihood. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  agricultural  congregations 
shake  their  heads  with  distrust  at  your  Mill  for  Grinding 
out  Preachers,  and  begrudge  the  money  they  are  solicited 
to  contribute  to  it  ?  They  know  that  they  do  not  breed 
all  the  "  go"  out  of  their  thoroughbred  horse.  The 
education  of  horses  increases  both  their  speed  and  their 
brawn.  Educated  dogs  are  much  more  "in  earnest," 
and  much  more  intelligently  in  earnest,  than  their  un- 
educated fellows.  Culture  promotes  their  mettle  and 
masculinity.  They  do  not  decrease  in  avoirdupois,  or 
any  other  kind  of  poise,  as  they  increase  in  intellect. 
They  can  graduate  from  their  training-master  without 
the  dyspepsia  or  the  periodical  dumps,  because  their 
physical  earnestness  is  made  to  keep  pace  with  their 
intellectual  earnestness.  How  much  prouder  and 
grander  is  the  voice  of  the  high-bred  mastiff  than  that  of 
the  ill-bred  mongrel  ?  In  the  case  of  the  intellectual 
animal  who  is  educated  for  preaching,  the  intellectual  is 
promoted,  not  only  without  regard  to  the  physical,  but 
at  the  expense  of  it. 

A  "  drawing  out,"  indeed,  it  is,  this  cramming,  ram- 
ming system  of  education  by  recitation.  It  draws  like 
the  lancet  that  taps  a  vein.  It  bleeds  the  preacher,  and 
leaves  him  so  genteel  and  jejune  that  no  hearer  ever  gets 
a  particle  of  invigoration  or  inoculation  from  him.  His 
animal  magnetism  is  refined  away.  If  you  should  pick 
up  a  young  fellow  with  a  genius  for  public  speaking  in 


PHYSICAL   EARNESTNESS.  37 

him,  with  a  great  show  of  rude  force,  with  little  home 
culture  but  much  animal  magnetism,  with  a  large  faculty 
for  affecting  and  infecting  an  audience,  with  splendid 
physical  earnestness — I  say,  if  you  should  stumble  upon 
such  a  young  fellow  as  this,  and  put  him  through  your 
Mill  for  Grinding  out  Preachers,  he  would  drop  out  of 
its  hopper  with  all  his  heart  and  virility  ground  out  of 
him.  He  can  dress  better,  perhaps,  and  he  certainly  is 
better  educated  than  he  was  when  he  set  out  ;  but  can 
he  speak  better,  can  he  speak  as  well,  as  effectively,  with 
as  manly  a  voice,  with  as  much  mesmeric  power  ?  No, 
he  cannot  ;  and  this  is  the  fact  which  the  ordaining 
clergy  and  the  agricultural  laity  are  blindly  bemoaning. 
N~o,  it  is  not  earnestness,  in  the  ordinary  sense,  that  the 
man  needs.  He  is  probably  more  in  earnest  in  that 
sense  than  he  ever  was — more  intellectually,  morally, 
spiritually  in  earnest.  It  is  physical  earnestness  that  he 
needs.  You  have  gorged  the  brain,  and  tapped  the  vein. 
You  have  gone  into  sanguinary  alliance  with  the  climate, 
and  left  nothing  but  whiteness  and  emaciation  where 
there  was  once  red  blood  and  glorious  flesh.  Education 
as  a  process  of  emasculation  !  So  when  the  young 
preacher  goes  back  to  his  friends,  they  throw  up  their 
hands  in  consternation  and  exclaim,  "  What  in  God's 
name  have  they  been  doing  to  him  ?"  For  it  is  in  God's 
name  that  you  have  done  it,  you  know  !  What  has 
become  of  the  fellow's  magnificent  physical  earnestness, 
with  which  he  used  to  sweep  down  upon  his  hearers,  and 
bear  them  away  ?  It  has  been  exchanged  for  education, 
instead  of  being  the  basis  of  it,  the  veins  and  arteries  of 
it.  If  the  battery  which  worked  so  powerfully  before 
Ceased  to  work  after  the  education,  have  we  not  reason 
to  charge  the  calamity  upon  the  education  ? 

Some  students,  however,  survive  this  system  of  educa- 


38  BEFOEE  Aff   AUDIENCE. 

tion  by  enervation  and  come  out  of  the  Mill  with  some 
of  the  brawn  which  they  had  when  they  went  into  it. 
Those  who  make  the  worst  show  in  recitation  lose  the 
least  brawn  in  the  course  of  it,  and  make  the  best 
speakers  after  they  are  done  with  it.  Those  public 
speakers  who  are  none  the  worse  for  their  education  are 
the  ones  most  likely  to  excel.  The  Rev.  John  Angell 
James  was  none  the  worse  for  his,  and  because  he  did 
not  take  to  recitation  he  was  given  over  for  a  dunce. 

"  When  he  completed  his  education"  (recitation  ?),  his 
biographer  tells  us,  ' '  he  was  remarkable  for  nothing  but 
impetuosity,  breadth  of  chest,  and  such  strongly  devel- 
oped pugilistic  tendencies  as  to  warrant  this  blunt  sum- 
mary of  his  character  :  the  thick-headed  fool  was  fit  for 
nothing  but  fighting."  But  he  was  fit  for  preaching  as 
well  as  fighting,  and  his  physical  accessories  were  as 
valuable  to  him  in  the  pulpit  as  they  would  have  been  in 
the  wrestler's  ring. 

John  Bright  is  of  the  same  build  and  temper.  He 
reminds  you  of  a  great  rock  breasting  the  storm,  while  a 
great  storm  rages  in  his  breast. 

Chancellor  Thurlow  was  probably  one  of  the  most 
marked  of  that  class  of  speakers  who  make  up  in  physical 
earnestness  what  they  lack  in  intellectual  force.  He  is 
said  to  have  "  rushed  like  Achilles  into  the  field,  and 
dealt  destruction  around  him  more  by  the  strength  of  his 
arm,  the  deep  tones  of  his  voice,  and  the  lightning  of 
his  eye  than  by  any  peculiarity  of  genius." 

Are  there  any  rules  to  be  observed  for  keeping  the 

health   and  preventing  ills  of  the  throat  ?     Yes.     I'll 

give  you  a  few  ounces  of  prevention  that 

of  Prev  ntM  *  ^&ve  £rown  out  °^  mv  own  experience. 
Dash  cold  water  on  the  throat  every  morn- 
ing when  you  wash,  for  three  hundred  and  sixty -five,  not 


PHYSICAL  EABNESTNESS.  39 

three  hundred  and  sixty-four,  mornings  of  the  year,  and 
wipe  it  off  roughly  with  a  coarse  towel.  There  is  noth- 
ing like  this  for  strengthening  the  outside  muscles  and 
inside  apparatus.  It  is  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
ounces  of  prevention  per  annum. 

You  may  wear  silk  around  the  neck,  but  never  wool. 
Silk  keeps  off  the  cutting  wind  without  creating  moist- 
ure, and  it  can  be  left  off  without  harm.  Wool  heats 
and  moistens,  and  once  accustomed  to  it  the  omission  of 
it  is  dangerous.  Do  not  allow  the  collar  to  touch  the 
throat.  There  should  be  room  for  two  fingers  between 
the  collar  and  the  throat. 

Keep  your  mouth  shut  when  you  are  not  using  it  for 
eating,  drinking,  or  speaking.  It  is  not  to  be  used  for 
breathing.  Breathe  through  the  nose.  If  you  awake 
in  the  night  and  find  your  mouth  open,  get  up  and 
shut  it.  Besides,  an  open  mouth  indicates  weakness  of 
character ;  keeping  it  closed  by  an  exercise  of  the  will 
strengthens  the  character  by  strengthening  the  will. 
Lavater  calls  the  mouth  ' '  the  seat  of  brutality  and  of 
delicacy,  of  sincerity  and  falsehood."  Do  not  let  it 
betray  you. 

Straighten  up  and  keep  yourself  straight.  Walk  up- 
right. The  "  shoulder  braces"  are  of  no  use  except  to 
suggest  bracing  yourself  up.  They  will  not  keep  your 
shoulders  back,  but  they  will  make  you  keep  your 
shoulders  back.  They  jog  the  will.  When  you 
straighten  up  for  the  first  time  you  will  find  that  your 
clothes  do  not  fit  you.  Your  trousers  are  too  short  and 
your  coat  won't  button.  The  tailor  measured  you  at 
your  greatest  shrinkage.  This  physical  discipline  will 
suggest  and  promote  physical  self-respect,  and  that  in 
turn  will  promote  moral  self-respect.  The  attitude  of 
dignity  dignifies  the  feeling.  Straightening  the  spine 


40  BEFORE   AN"   ATJDIEKCE. 

stiffens  the  moral  vertebra.  The  self-distrustful  speaker 
is  helped  by  a  confident  demeanor.  Try  it. 

The  best  thing  to  eat  just  before  or  just  after  speaking 
is  a  bit  of  half-done  beefsteak  and  plain  bread  without 
butter,  and  if  you  care  for  anything  to  drink,  one  cup  of 
good  English  breakfast  tea.  If  you  can  drink  milk  with 
impunity  substitute  it  for  the  tea  at  your  after-speaking 
lunch.  Eschew  tobacco,  and  take  no  longer  fire-water 
for  your  stomach's  sake  when  you  really  intend  it  for 
your  brain's  sake.  The  occasional  stimulant  becomes  a 
constant  crutch.  The  speaker's  depression  that  naturally 
follows  his  exaltation  is  only  deepened  and  darkened  by 
the  use  of  narcotics  or  stimulants.  Roast  beef  is  the 
best  remedy  for  a  morbid  mind.  Nourishment  that 
increases  brawn,  and  not  intoxicants  that  diminish  it,  are 
what  the  speaker  needs. 

Never  drink  water  while  you  are  speaking.  It  aggra- 
vates the  thirst  it  is  designed  to  quench.  It  is  a  nervous 
habit,  like  the  handkerchief  habit  of  the  preachers. 

Sleep  immediately  before  speaking  is  beyond  all  com- 
parison the  best  preparation  for  it.  If  you  can  snatch  a 
cat-nap  of  ten  minutes  you  will  be  greatly  refreshed,  but 
if  you  can  get  an  hour  or  two  of  slumber  on  your  bed  in 
you  r  night-gown,  you  will  rise  for  your  sermon,  lecture, 
or  plea  with  your  strength  renewed  like  that  of  a  strong 
man  to  run  a  race  or  make  a  speech.  A  day's  lay-off  on 
the  bed  is  the  rest-cure.  If  the  brain-workers  would  do 
at  home  what  they  go  to  Philadelphia  in  order  to  be 
compelled  to  do,  they  would  save  money  and  time,  and 
accomplish  by  a  short-cut  what  they  seldom  attain  by 
these  roundabout,  circuitous,  and  overdone  methods. 
Go  to  bed  once  in  awhile  and  stay  there  for  awhile — all 
day,  two  days,  a  week  even.  Why  go  to  a  penitentiary 
to  do  what  you  can  do  in  your  own  home,  sweet  home  f 


IV. 

THE  SELF-KELIANCE  FOE  PUBLIC  SPEAKING. 

THE  public  speaker  is  dependent  upon  himself  for  the 
use  of  his  will,  for  knowing  what  he  is  about,  for  making 
the  most  of  himself,  for  the  physical  and  mental  con- 
ditions essential  to  his  success.  There  is  an  exaltation 
about  public  speaking  peculiar  to  itself  which  shows  how 
self-reliant  the  speaker  is.  There  is  a  heat  and  thrill 
about  it  to  be  had  from  no  other  exercise  of  mind  or 
body.  Its  highest  reaches  are  accompanied  by  a  delirium 
which  is  probably  the  most  delightful  form  of  intoxica- 
tion of  which  the  human  mind  is  capable.  He  who  has 
once  felt  it  will  hanker  after  it  as  an  old  toper  after  his 
bottle.  If  there  are  public  speakers  who  have  none  of 
this  exhilaration,  they  may  infer  that  they  were  not 
designed  of  heaven  to  do  much  upon  earth.  Their  ina- 
bility to  make  themselves  feel  accounts  for  their  being 
unable  to  make  their  hearers  feel,  and  is  perhaps  a  reason 
why  they  should  cease  to  feel  themselves  '  '  called  "  of 
God  or  man  to  fight  it  out  any  longer  on  that  line. 
There  is  no  better  exercise  than  the  physical  earnestness  of 
public  speaking.  It  is  as  good  for  the  liver  as  horseback- 
riding.  A  pulpit  sweat  is  better  than  a  Turkish  bath. 

Some  minds  work  best,  most  effectively, 
and  expeditiously  in  and  by  the  act  of  pub-    ™e  Indmdu- 

of  Public 


i-  i  •          o    t  LV    *v'  i 

lie  speaking.     Such  men  are  public  think-       Speaking 

ers  as  distinguished  from  closet  thinkers. 

As  some  cannot  think  or  express  their  thoughts  except 


42  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

in  the  seclusion  of  the  study,  so  some  are  unable  to  think 
out  their  thoughts  unless  they  speak  them  oat.  The  two 
classes  mix,  but  there  are  enough  strongly  marked  men 
of  each  to  make  two  separate  and  distinct  classes  of  men 
who  express  their  thoughts  for  the  benefit  of  their 
fellow-men — speakers  and  writers.  The  most  successful 
public  speakers  are  supreme  before  an  audience,  but 
must  take  a  secondary,  if  not  twenty-secondary  place 
among  writers  strictly  so  called. 

Preachers  who  produce  the  greatest  immediate  effect 
(which  is  the  primary  aim  of  preaching),  as  Whitefield 
and  Bossuet,  are  not  competent  to  cope  with  those  who 
make  a  science  of  thinking  and  of  publishing  their 
thoughts. 

Such  facts  as  these  prove  the  individuality  of  public 
speaking,  and  the  commanding  individuality  of  the  art 
of  public  speaking  indicates  how  exclusive  should  be  the 
devotion  to  it  of  those  who  wish  to  excel  in  it.  And 
this  suggests  a  reason  why  some  who  make  considerable 
attainments  fall  short  of  the  highest  attainments  in  the 
art  of  rhetoric  which  Plato  called  "  The  art  of  ruling 
the  minds  of  men."  They  are  divided  in  their  allegi- 
ance between  writing  and  speaking,  or  between  ruling 
the  minds  of  men  by  speaking  and  ruling  them  by  writ- 
ing. The  self-reliance  for  public  speaking  promotes  this 
exclusive  enthusiasm  for  it.  Preachers  who  do  some- 
thing besides  preach,  or  pleaders  who  do  something 
besides  plead,  or  agitators  who  do  something  besides 
agitate  the  public  mind,  are  not  smitten  with  the  passion 
for  ruling  the  minds  of  men  by  public  speaking,  without 
which  exclusive  passion  it  is  impossible  for  all  the  con- 
ditions  for  success  in  public  speaking  to  be  fulfilled. 

Chatham  said  :  "  I  must  sit  still  ;  for  when  once  I  am 
op,  everything  in  my  mind  comes  out."  What  brought 


THE   SELF-RELIANCE   FOR   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  43 

it  out  ?  Getting  up.  Sitting  still  kept  his  mind  quiet  ; 
getting  on  his  legs  set  his  mind  in  motion.  To  say  that 
Chatham's  mind  worked  oratorically  is  to 

say  that  it  worked  under  the  incitement   _ 
J  Temperament. 

of  excitation  peculiar  to  the  act  of  public 
speaking.  Gladstone's  is  another  mind  that  works  ora- 
torically, whether  he  express  himself  in  a  magazine 
article  or  in  a  speech  from  the  Treasury  Bench.  Wher- 
ever or  however  he  speaks,  he  always  speaks  in  the  fas- 
cinating rhythm  of  oratorical  diction.  He  cannot  talk 
at  his  best  unless  he  rises  to  make  a  speech  to  the  com- 
pany, be  it  small  or  large  ;  and  when  he  does  rise  to 
make  a  speech,  he  talks  as  few  other  men  can.  He,  like 
Chatham  and  Fox  and  Curran  and  O'Connell  and  White- 
field  and  Phillips  and  Clay,  has  the  oratorical  tempera- 
ment— a  temperament  that  takes  fire  by  the  simple  act  of 
public  speaking.  It  needs  only  to  be  once  up  in  order 
to  be  ignited. 

Webster  was  endowed,  like  Macaulay,  with  an  orator- 
ical diction,  but  failed  in  the  oratorical  temperament. 
He  lacked  self-reliance.  He  depended  upon  the  occa- 
sion, and  even  when  that  was  supplied  he  was  liable  to 
fail.  Parties  do  not  like  leaders  whom  they  have  to 
nurse.  The  stump  is  a  rough  cradle. 

The  late  Lord  Clarendon  was  another       ^  Lord 

marked  instance  of  failure  in  public  speak-   ..  _  arf °  °?  s  , 

,  ,    „   .  i     A        u      v  "Constitutional 

ing,  from  a  deficiency  in  the  self-reliance    sluggishness." 

indispensable  for  public  speaking,  espe- 
cially for  that  of  public  men  who  would  create  and  mould 
public  opinion.  "  His  merits,"  we  are  told,  "  were  half 
hidden,  and  his  usefulness  greatly  marred  by  a  constitu- 
tional sluggishness  which,  while  it  saved  him  from  errors, 
cheated  him  of  brilliant  victories  and  some  prizes.  In 
his  whole  career,  perhaps,  no  episode  occurred  at  which 


44  BEFORE    AN   AUDIENCE. 

his  pulse  seemed  to  beat  faster  than  its  wont.  He  had 
not  the  temperament  that  would  have  enabled  him  to 
make  the  most  of  his  superior  powers  and  splendid 
experience.  A  little  more  rapidity,  and  Lord  Claren- 
don might  have  died  Prime-Minister.1'  A  little  more 
slumber,  a  little  more  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep  on 
the  pulpit-desk,  and  you  will — be  an  insurance  agent  ! 
His  lordship  came  of  a  slow-blood  family.  A  little  more 
consciousness  of  that  fact,  and  a  little  more  self-reliance 
and  self-excitation  in  consequence,  is  what  he  needed — 
a  little  more  turning  of  the  will  upon  his  ' '  constitutional 
sluggishness,' '  a  little  more  of  that  knowing  what  he  was 
about  before  an  audience,  without  which  no  public 
speaker  can  make  the  most  of  himself. 

A  war  minister  of  England  advocates  a  scheme  of 
army  reorganization  which,  he  says,  "  cost  him  many 
months  of  anxious  thought  and  study  so  languidly," 
according  to  the  report,  "  that  the  House  was  hardly 
able  to  realize  the  importance  of  the  changes  which  he 
proposed.  He  spoke  within  his  voice,  so  that  it  was 
necessary  to  listen  attentively  in  order  to  hear.  A  little 
more  boldness  and  ring  would  certainly  have  procured 
for  the  scheme  more  consideration."  The  same  anxious 
thought  and  study  that  produced  the  scheme  would  have 
procured  for  it  the  requisite  boldness  and  ring.  Speak- 
ing within  the  voice — that  is,  within  its  power — is  the 
result  of  a  flagging  will.  It  is  natural  enough,  because 
languor  is  as  natural  as  anger. 

Lord  John  Russell  tells  us  how  the  "  tame  and  ineffec- 
tive manner"  of  Lord  Althorp  in  bringing 

How  Lord      in  the  Coercion  Bill  produced  a  feeling  of 
Derby  Saved  .        .  &. 

the  Day        disgust  in  his  followers  that  was  well-nigh 

mutiny,   when   Stanley,    afterward   Lord 
Derby,  saved  the  day,  and  the  bill,  and  his  party  by  a 


THE  SELF-RELIANCE   FOR   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  45 

speech  that  completely  neutralized  the  "  tame  and  in- 
effective' '  influence  of  his  leader. 

' '  He  detailed,  with  striking  effect,  the  circumstances 
attending  the  murder  of  a  clergyman  and  the  agony  of 
his  widow,  who,  after  seeing  her  husband  murdered,  had 
to  bear  in  terror  running  knocks  at  the  door,  kept  up  all 
night  by  the  miscreants  who  had  committed  the  crime. 
The  House  became  appalled  and  agitated  at  the  dreadful 
picture  which  he  placed  before  their  eyes  ;  they  felt  for 
the  sorrows  of  the  innocent  ;  they  were  shocked  at  the 
dominion  of  assassins  and  robbers.  When  he  had  pro- 
duced a  thrilling  effect  by  these  descriptions  he  turned 
upon  O'  Connell,  who  led  the  opposition  to  the  measure, 
and  who  seemed  a  short  time  before  about  to  achieve  a 
triumph  in  favor  of  sedition  and  anarchy.  He  recalled 
to  the  recollection  of  the  House  of  Commons  that  at  a 
recent  public  meeting  O' Connell  had  spoken  of  the 
House  of  Commons  as  six  hundred  and  fifty-eight 
scoundrels.  In  a  tempest  of  scorn  and  indignation,  he 
excited  the  anger  of  the  men  thus  designated  against  the 
author  of  the  calumny.  The  House,  which  two  hours 
before  seemed  about  to  yield  to  the  great  agitator,  was 
now  almost  ready  to  tear  him  to  pieces.  In  the  midst 
of  the  storm  which  his  eloquence  had  raised  he  sat  down, 
having  achieved  one  of  the  greatest  triumphs  of  elo- 
quence ever  won  in  a  popular  assembly  by  the  powers  of 
oratory. " 

The  late  Lord  Derby  had  an  abundance  of  self -induced 
excitement.  He  had  the  oratorical  temperament  and  a 
genius  for  debate.  I  heard  the  last  speech  he  ever 
delivered,  arid  was  impressed  with  the  knightly  bearing 
and  the  self-reliance  of  the  great  debater.  I  could  see 
plainly  that  he  was  quite  used  to  making  himself  come 
to  time  when  the  time  came  for  the  speech.  He  carried 


46  BEFORE   AJf   AUDIENCE. 

himself  impressively.  He  held  a  roll  of  paper  in  his 
right  hand,  which  he  raised  high  and  brought  down  into 
the  palm  of  his  left  hand  with  a  whack.  It  was  a 
capital  device  for  startling  the  drowsy  woolsack  or  the 
drones  in  gowns. 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  find  another  man  in  modern 

times  more  exclusively,  and  in  consequence  more  effec- 

tively, a  public  speaker  than  Wendell  Phillips.     Indeed, 

he  was  so  rigidly  and  restrictedly  a  ruler 

Wendell        o£  ^Q  minds  of  men  by  the  art  of  rhetoric, 
Phillips's  J 


.  . 

Self-Reliance  *na*  ms  effectiveness  is  confined  to  one 
branch  of  that  one  art  —  that  of  agitator. 
And  so  pertinaciously  and  exclusively  did  his  mind 
adhere  to  that  department  of  public  speaking,  that  he 
failed  in  even  the  department  so  nearly  akin  to  it  as  con- 
troversy. To  see  Mr.  Phillips  fail  in  controversial 
public  speaking,  as  well  as  in  the  tact  and  judgment 
indispensable  for  acting  in  conjunction  with  many  men 
of  many  minds,  was  to  see  how  narrow  may  be  the  gauge 
upon  which  the  art  of  ruling  the  minds  of  men  by  public 
speaking  may  be  made  to  run.  Mr.  Phillips  once  said 
of  himself  in  a  private  chat:  "I  am  a  stirrer-up  of 
things  generally."  That  is  exactly  what  he  was,  and  a 
soother-down  of  things  generally,  or  a  judicious  adjuster 
of  things  generally,  is  exactly  what  he  was  not.  He  was 
a  born  and  trained  agitator. 

So  was  Daniel  O'Connell.  Trained,  I  say.  Mr. 
Phillips  told  me  that  he  learned  how  to  make  an  audi- 
ence hear  and  heed  him  by  their  attempt  to  make  him 
hear  and  heed  them.  The  more  they  would  not  listen 
the  more  he  determined  that  they  should  hear  what  he 
had  to  say.  It  was  a  rare  training  in  distinctness,  in 
articulate  earnestness,  in  the  use  of  the  will,  in  knowing 
what  you  are  about,  and  in  self-reliance.  Mr.  Phillips's 


THE   SELF-RELIANCE  FOB   PUBLIC   SPEAKIN*.  47 

mind,  not  only  by  reason  of  its  peculiar  construction, 
but  as  the  result  of  his  experience  with  the  mob,  worked 
as  Chatham's  was  said  to  have  worked,  oratorically. 
His  mission  was  to  create  public  opinion,  not  to  utilize 
it.  "  Abrupt  utterances,  thrown  out  isolated,  unex- 
plained"— the  rest  must  be  done  by  others.  He  was  no 
general,  but  a  magnificent  Uhlan,  our  bright  particular 
star  of  pure  oratory,  and  as  knightly  pure  a  soul  as  ever 
broke  a  lance  with  a  popular  injustice.  We  bring  him 
in  here  as  an  example  of  what  a  passionate  and  exclusive 
devotion  to  public  speaking  will  accomplish,  and  how 
this  art — the  only  one  used  by  Him  who  spake  as  never 
man  spake — rewards  her  votaries.  Indeed,  it  is  written 
over  the  threshold  of  every  art :  Thou  shalt  have  no 
other  arts  before  Me. 

I  asked  Phillips  what  he  thought  of  Henry  Yincent. 
"  Pulmonary  eloquence  !"  Yincent  is  unfairly  treated 
by  this  fling.  We  are  just  as  much  in  need  of  his 
dramatic  descriptions  as  we  are  of  Phillips's  conversa- 
tional invective.  Yincent's  day  was  over  when  he  came 
to  this  country.  His  voice  was  cracked.  Twenty-five 
years  before  the  burly  chartist  was  a  power  with  his 
powerful  elocution,  and  theatrical  manner,  and  self- 
induced  mesmerism. 

Phillips  on  the  platform  was  an  elegant  gentleman 
conversing  with  his  friends  and  lampooning  his  enemies. 
He  was  a  rare  instance  of  what  the  colloquial  element  in 
public  speaking  can  accomplish.  But  he  was  not  appre- 
ciated by  untrained  audiences.  He  required  listeners 
that  were  accustomed  to  listening. 

Some  who  have  not  the  oratorical  tern-  Make  the  Most 
perament  have  the  self-reliance  and  will-      of  Yourself, 
power,  which  enables  them  to  make  the 
most  of  their  faculties  and  attainments.     These  sluggish 


48  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

temperaments,  which  are  not  roused  by  the  simple  act 
of  public  speaking,  are  just  the  ones  to  whom  this  de- 
rice  of  self-excitation  is  immensely  useful.  The  ora- 
torical temperament  is  invariably  associated  with  physi- 
cal lassitude  and  indolence.  It  is  essentially  a  Celtic  as 
distinguished  from  a  Teutonic  temperament ;  a  bitumi- 
nous as  opposed  to  an  anthracite  temperament.  It  can 
get  mad  or  make  a  speech  upon  the  slightest  pro- 
vocation. It  has  a  constitutional  aversion  for  manual 
labor,  for  all  physical  exertion,  indeed,  except  that 
induced  by  passionate  emotion,  whether  it  take  the  form 
of  oratorical,  political,  or  martial  ambition.  Oratory 
thrives  where  agriculture  declines.  What  we  and  the 
English  boast  of  as  extraordinary  in  the  way  of  impas- 
sioned public  speaking  is  common  enough  in  France  and 
Italy,  where  indolence  and  eloquence  go  hand  in  hand. 
The  oratorical  temperament  is  very  inflammable  under 
the  excitation  of  public  speaking.  "  When  once  it  is 
up,"  its  blood  is  up.  This  is  not  so  much  or  so  often 
the  case  with  the  oratory  of  England,  but  it  is  becoming 
more  and  more  so  with  that  of  this  country,  where  the 
Celtic  temperament  is  already  in  the  ascendant,  and 
where  the  Celtic  forms  of  thinking  and  style  of  writing 
and  speaking  are  destined  to  prevail. 

We  cannot,  however,  share  in  the  advantages  of  a 
national  peculiarity  unless  we  share  in  the  peculiarity 
itself.  If  our  minds  do  not  work  oratorically  we  must 
compel  them  to  work  as  oratorically  as  we  can.  We 
must  make  the  most  of  what  qualifications  we  have,  and 
the  more  we  make  of  them  the  more  we  can  make  of 
them.  If  "  when  once  we  are  up"  nothing  "  in  oui 
minds  comes  out,"  we  must  devise  some  means  foi 
bringing  something  out.  or  abandon  public  speaking  sa 
the  means  hy  which  we  are  ' '  called  ' '  to  win  souls,  o> 


THE   SELF-RELIANCE    FOE    PUBLIC    SPEAKING.  49 

reform  nations,  or  stir  up  things  generally.  A  drum 
has  nothing  in  it  until  it  is  struck.  Then  it  is  full  of 
sound  and  fury,  signifying  something,  signifying  To 
arms — battle — victory. 

Sometimes  it  will  happen — nay,  it  generally  happens, 
except  in  political  campaign  speaking — that  the  occasion 

is  dormant  and  the  audience  is  dormant. 

TTTI        •  11.        *  he  Virtue  of 

What  is  the  speaker  to  do  under  such  cir-      Earnestness 

cumstances  ?  Wait  for  the  audience  to  to  be  Assumed 
come  to  life,  in  the  hope  that  it  will  bring  if  y°u  have 

him  to  life  ?  or  bring  himself  to  life,  and   .     lt  not    y  . 
,  .  -,  Temperament, 

by  that  means  bring  his  audience  to  life  ? 

What  brings  the  frogs  to  life  in  the  spring  ?  Certainly 
the  frogs  do  not  bring  themselves  to  life.  They  are 
awakened  by  the  increase  of  warmth  in  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  So  the  frogs  in  the  audience  will  never  come  to 
life  until  they  obtain  a  little  more,  or  a  good  deal  more, 
warm  light  from  the  speaker.  You  may  know  it  has 
arrived  by  the  croaking.  Better  the  croaking  of  the  few 
cold  frogs  at  your  superfluous  warmth,  than  the  condem- 
nation that  was  visited  upon  the  pastor  of  the  church 
at  Laodicea  for  being  merely  lukewarm. 

When  the  hearers  are  least  interested,  from  either 
their  familiarity  with  the  topic  or  the  depression  of  their 
surroundings,  the  speaker  is  to  be  most  interested — 
that  is,  he  is  to  show  most  interest,  hence  animation, 
physical  earnestness.  Showing  interest  will  increase  his 
interest.  Assuming  such  a  virtue  creates  it. 

When  you  suspect  that  your  sermon  or  lecture  is  below 
your  mark,  and  that  it  will  therefore  be  received  with 
delight  by  those  who  enjoy  nothing  in  your  discourse 
except  its  defects,  that  is  the  time  for  summoning  all 
your  self-reliance,  your  physical  earnestness,  your  will- 
power That  is  the  time  for  falling  back  upon  your 


50  BEFORE  AJST   AUDIENCE. 

reserves  in  the  way  of  faculties  and  qualities  which 
always  stand  ready  to  fly  to  your  assistance  when  those 
which  constitute  your  vanguard  are  driven  in.  That  is 
the  time  to  lift  up  your  vertebrae,  and  your  head,  and 
your  pluck,  and  your  voice,  and  look  your  audience 
square  in  the  eye,  clear  your  throat — in  a  word,  when 
your  earthen  vessel  is  caught  and  cannot  bear  up  into  the 
wind,  let  her  drive.  Something  may  come  of  it,  whereas 
nothing  can  come  of  doing  nothing.  These  moments 
of  contrary  winds  are  very  critical  ones  for  the  earthen 
vessel.  They  sometimes  carry  him  upon  the  rocks 
through  the  sheer  helplessness  and  give-up  of  the  cap- 
tain— Captain  Will.  Hence  the  necessity  for  a  self- 
reliance  which  is  abundant  in  resources,  and  quick  in  the 
use  of  them,  and  as  competent  for  the  perilous  dash  as 
the  safe  manoeuvre.  The  speaker  must  conquer  himself 
if  he  would  conquer  his  audience  and  turn  its  apathy 
into  interest. 

It  is  preposterous  to  say  that  in  every  other  occupation 
and  profession  in  the  world,  from  fox-hunting  to  office 
hunting,  a  man  is  to  make  the  most  of  him- 
Self-Reliance     ge}f  ^  j^  fa&t  in  preaching  a  man  is  to  see 

witlTspiritual  ^OW  ^tle  ^e  Can  ma^e  °^  m'mself ,  his  judg- 
Dependence.  ment,  tact,  physical  earnestness,  and  self- 
reliance.  All  squeamishness  with  reference 
to  moving  himself,  in  order  that  he  may  move  others,  the 
preacher  should  put  away  at  once  and  forever.  There 
is  no  quarrel  between  the  highest  sense  of  spiritual 
dependence  and  the  liveliest  sense  of  self-reliance.  Both 
are  inconsistent  with  a  parson's  giving  an  ill  man  reason 
for  saying  :  ' '  You  speak  of  the  joys  of  heaven  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  me  disgusted  with  them."  To  say  that 
we  must  not  use  a  tone  until  we  have  its  feeling,  is 
equivalent  to  saying  that  we  must  not  be  courteous  or 


THE   SELF-RELIANCE   FOB   PUBLIC    SPEAKING.  51 

civil  until  we  feel  like  it.  It  is  just  as  much  tha 
preacher's  duty  to  speak  in  the  tone  and  manner  of 
sympathy  while  he  is  administering  sympathy,  regard- 
less of  his  own  feelings,  as  it  is  our  duty  to  behave 
courteously  to  our  fellows  whether  we  feel  like  it  or  not. 
Unless  the  preacher  absolutely  disbelieves  what  he  says, 
he  is  justified  in  saying  it,  is  required  to  say  it  as  though 
he  does  believe  it.  No  man  on  earth  could  stand  the 
test  of  only  preaching  when  his  faith  is  at  its  highest. 
In  fact,  much  of  a  preacher5  s  scepticism  is  an  evanescent 
mood  which  nothing  puts  to  flight  sooner  than  preach- 
ing. This  mood,  too,  instead  of  arising  from  an  inquir- 
ing mind,  may  arise  from  a  sour  stomach — or  a  stomach 
overloaded  with  hot  bread  and  ice-water,  which  may 
have  something  to  do  with  the  low  state  of  hunger  and 
thirst  after  righteousness. 

I   can  recall  no  better  illustration  of  how  the  best 
trained  and  most  confident  of  public  speakers  may  be 
thrown  by  the  occasion  than  the  failure  of 
the  felicitous  and  facetious  Jeffrey  in  his     A  Practised 
attempt  to  present  John  Philip  Kemble  pe  berth 

with  a  gold  snuff-box  at  a  public  dinner       Occasion. 
at  Edinburgh. 

"  He  rose  for  the  purpose  with  full  confidence  in  that 
extemporaneous  power  which  had  never  failed  him  ; 
but  when  the  dramatist  raised  his  kingly  form  at  the 
same  instant  and  confronted  the  diminutive  man  with  his 
magnificent  obeisance — the  grandest,  probably,  ever 
made  by  mortal — the  most  fluent  of  speakers  was  sud- 
denly struck  dumb.  He  sat  down,  with  his  speech  un- 
finished and  the  golden  gift  unpresented. " 

Sometimes  the  audience,  utterly  unsuspicious  of  its 
royal  appearance,  will  assume  a  "  kingly  form"  to  even 
a  speaker  who  had  every  rea&on  to  suppose  he  had  con- 


62  BEFORE    AN    AUDIENCE. 

ceit  enough  to  carry  him  through,  and  strike  him  dumb, 
or,  what  is  just  as  bad,  strike  him  with  a  complication 
of  bewildering  phrases. 

The  oratorical,  like  the  poetical  or  musical  organiza- 
tion, is  apt  to  be  irritable,  touchy,  easily  thrown,  and 
the  public  speaker  needs  equanimity  and 
-Posses-  pOjse>  Jn  controversy  it  is  indispensable. 
Good-Nature  ^e  debater  who  loses  his  temper  loses 
the  battle.  Burke's  wonderful  force  and 
brilliancy  were  hindered  by  his  irritability.  Lyndhurst 
was  often  more  than  a  match  for  Brougham,  with  all  his 
resources,  by  reason  of  his  superior  coolness,  which  was 
the  result  of  self-discipline  by  the  use  of  the  will.  Pitt 
kept  his  temper,  and  was  kept  by  it.  Although  he 
sometimes  vomited  from  nervousness  behind  the  speaker's 
chair,  he  never  lost  his  balance  before  it.  Disraeli  lost 
his  temper  at  starting  out,  but  saw  his  error,  and  ever 
after  knew  what  he  and  his  temper  were  about.  He 
never  again  let  go  the  reins.  He  kept  himself  well  in 
hand. 

This  recalls  the  second  Henry  Grattan,  who  "  could 
not  utter  a  half  dozen  sentences  without  getting  into 
such  a  passion  and  indulging  in  such  violence  of  gesture 
that  it  was  quite  unsafe  for  any  member  to  sit  within 
reach  of  his  right  arm."  He  "forgot  himself  and 
thought  only  of  his  subject,"  did  not  know  what  he  and 
his  gestures  were  about. 

Luther  said  :  "  I  never  speak  so  well  as  when  I  am  in 
a  passion  ;"  but  according  to  his  own  confession  his  most 
injudicious  and  injurious  utterances  grew  out  of  his 
speaking  when  he  was  in  a  passion. 

Public  speaking  is  depressing  in  proportion  as  it  is 
exhilarating,  and  is  therefore  necessarily  followed  by  a 
reaction.  You  tumble  from  great  heights  to  correspond- 


THE   SELF-RELIANCE    FOR    PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  53 

ingly  great  depths.  You  cannot  have  the  blessing  with- 
out the  curse  involved  in  it.  Public  speaking  is  no 
exception  to  the  universal  rule — we  die  to  live  ;  he  that 
saveth  himself  shall  lose  himself,  and  he  that  devoteth 
himself  must  perish  of  the  devotion.  Still,  you  can  hold 
yourself  together,  and  break  the  force  of  the  law  some- 
what. But  not  by  fooling  away  your  time  on  lessons  in 
emphasis,  or  attitudes  before  a  looking-glass,  or  even  by 
giving  your  whole  time  to  recitations  in  the  dead  lan- 
guages. If  your  teachers  of  law  and  theology  do  not 
pay  any  attention  to  your  training  in  the  living  language 
in  which  you  are  to  speak,  or  to  your  judgment,  or  to 
your  physical  discipline,  or  to  your  self-restraint,  you 
must  give  atttention  to  them  yourself  in  downright, 
upright,  outright  earnest,  or  you  will  graduate  a  fool  or 
a  paralytic. 

It  was  said  of  Daniel  O'Connell  that  if  his  feelings 
were  not  enlisted,  his  manner  was  cold  and  his  voice 
monotonous,  and  those  who  never  heard 
him  before  "  would  wonder  how  he  ever      O'Connell, 
could  have  attained  so  much  popularity."       Broueham 
They  expected  the  public  speaker  to  be 
what  they  never  expect  their  trotting  horses  and  laying 
hens  to  be — always  at  their  best.     Neither  horse,  hen, 
nor  speaker  can  endure  such  a  test.     O'Connell  prob- 
ably knew  what  he  and  his  feelings  were  about,   and 
kept  them  under  the  control  of  his  will  and  judgment. 

Mirabeau  was  very  appreciative  of  his  physical  acces- 
sories. He  counted  much  upon  his  hideous  features,  his 
heavy  eyebrows,  his  enormous  brush  of  hair,  upon  his 
very  ugliness.  "  No  one  knows,"  he  said,  "all  the 
power  of  my  ugliness.  "When  I  shake  my  terrible  mane 
none  dare  interrupt  me."  He  had  a  frightful  stare,  and 
covered  himself  with  the  ferocity  of  a  polar  bear  ;  but 


54  BEFORE   AN  AUDIENCE. 

Madame  de  Saillant  says  he  was  "  an  empty  bugbear." 
Perhaps  nobody  knew  that  better  than  himself.  Every 
bully  dreads  the  discovery  of  his  own  cowardice.  Ora- 
tory is  often  the  refuge  of  the  craven  braggart. 

Mirabeau  was  a  good  specimen  of  self-reliance  and 
self-restraint  as  well  as  physical  earnestness.  He  was 
slow  at  first,  began  with  great  deliberation,  kept  himself 
well  in  hand,  made  the  most  of  himself,  always  knew 
what  he  and  his  savage  voice  were  about.  With  all  his 
storm  and  rage  he  never  lost  self -command  or  equilib- 
rium. He  determined  that  his  voice  should  be  heard 
in  all  its  varied  inflections  and  cadences,  and  it  was.  He 
made  a  dagger  of  it,  and  thrust  into  his  hearers,  or  a 
maul  of  it,  and  brought  it  down  upon  them  with  mash- 
ing, crashing  force. 

Lord  Brougham  was  a  rare  illustration  of  the  use  of 
the  will  in  public  speaking  of  self-reliance,  and  knowing 
what  you  are  about,  and  making  the  most  of  yourself 
when  you  get  upon  your  legs  before  an  audience.  He 
had  an  oratorical  ambition  and  an  oratorical  tempera- 
ment. He  made  a  study  of  himself  and  of  every  other 
speaker.  He  picked  up  any  quality  or  device  that  he 
found  in  the  effective  barristers  and  preachers,  and 
incorporated  it  in  his  own  style.  That  is  the  way  he 
secured  his  famous  "  Brougham  whisper."  He  noticed 
that  a  preacher  made  up  for  the  feebleness  of  his  voice 
by  lowering  it  at  certain  times  on  certain  passages.  He 
cultivated  a  whisper  which  commanded  attention,  but 
he  knew  what  he  and  his  voice  were  about  too  well  to 
be  always  whispering.  He  knew  when  to  whisper  and 
when  to  bl?w  upon  his  bugle.  He  knew  enough  to 
be  dull  enough  when  it  suited  his  purpose.  He  could 
rest  himself,  and  save  himself,  and  husband  his  resources 
for  the  emergency.  He  knew,  as  every  speaker  should, 


THE  SELF-RELIANCE   FOR   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  55 

where  he  was  strong,  and  where  weak,  and  in  what 
kind  of  rhetorical  harness  he  worked  best.  He  was 
great  in  making  or  repelling  an  attack.  He  was  a 
striking  illustration  of  how  much  the  combative  element 
has  to  do  with  the  working  of  the  animal  galvanic 
battery  on  two  legs.  His  delivery  expressed  his  mood 
and  created  it  as  well.  When  he  rose  the  storm 
rose  within  him ;  when  he  sat  down  the  storm  sub- 
sided. He  spoke  as  much  with  his  body  as  he  did  with 
his  mind.  And  his  body,  like  Mirabeau's,  was  a  power- 
ful auxiliary  of  the  mind.  He  had  a  bold  forehead  and 
a  shaggy  shock  of  coarse  hair — a  rock  covered  with 
thorns  and  briers.  His  nose  was  a  huge  crag,  and  his 
eyes  glared.  He  was  awkward,  but  his  awkwardness 
became  him.  It  was  in  keeping  with  his  style  of  rhetoric 
and  elocution.  For  such  a  speaker  to  take  on  the  effem- 
inate graces  of  a  Chesterfield  would  be  to  reduce  him  to 
— a  Chesterfield. 

Whoever  has  made  a  study  of  our  English  books  of 
rhetoric  must  have  observed  something  of  a  contradiction 

in  their  advice  with  reference  to  the  self- 

v  ,.  in.  i  .  -01   •  Contradictions 

reliance  for  public  speaking.     131air  says,    .      .     „    , 

under  the  head  of  "  The  Pathetic  Part  Of  Rhetoric, 
of  a  Discourse,"  which  might  be  called 
the  moving  part  of  a  discourse  :  "  The  only  effectual 
method  (of  moving  others)  is  to  be  moved  yourselves. 
.  .  .  The  internal  emotion  of  the  speaker  adds  a  pathos 
to  his  words,  his  looks,  his  gestures,  and  his  whole 
manner,  which  exerts  a  power  almost  irresistible  over 
those  who  hear.  But" — you  must  not  be  moved  your- 
selves by  yourselves.  You  must  not  be  in  the  slightest 
degree  self-reliant  for  your  internal  emotions — "  But  on 
this  point,  as  I  have  had  occasion  before  to  show,  all 
attempts  toward  becoming  pathetic,  when  we  are  not 


56  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

moved  ourselves,  expose  us  to  certain  ridicule."  Our 
author  then  refers  with  approval  to  Quintilian's  descrip- 
tion of  the  method  he  pursued  for  moving  others — i.e.y 
by  first  moving  himself  !  "  Quintilian,  who  discourses 
upon  this  subject  with  much  good  sense,"  declares  that 
his  "method  for  entering  into  those  passions  which  he 
wanted  to  excite  in  others,"  was  to  "  set  before  his  own 
imagination  strong  pictures  of  the  distress  or  indignities 
which  they  had  suffered  whose  cause  he  was  to  plead. ' ' 
He  "  dwelt  upon  these  till  he  was  affected  by  a  passion 
similar  to  that  which  the  persons  themselves  had  felt. 
To  this  method  he  attributes  all  the  success  he  ever  had 
in  public  speaking,  and  (Blair  adds)  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  whatever  tends  to  increase  an  orator's  sensi- 
bility will  add  greatly  to  his  pathetic  powers."  If 
Quintilian's  imaginary  "pictures"  were  not  "attempts 
toward  becoming  pathetic,"  or  being  moved  "when  he 
was  not  moved  himself,"  a  method  which  Blair  declares 
would  incur  ridicule,  there  must  be  some  way  of  recon- 
ciling the  positions  of  these  two  authors  which  I  cannot 
discover.  Blair  reflected  a  popular  fallacy  upon  this 
subject  wliich  was  unknown  to  the  ancients — viz.,  that 
because  the  actor  is  self-reliant  for  his  emotional  re- 
sources, the  public  speaker,  especially  the  preacher, 
should  not  be.  But  when  he,  or  any  other  English 
writer,  descants  upon  the  expression  of  the  emotions  or 
passions  in  language,  he  finds  himself  trying  to  balance 
himself  on  the  two  stools,  that  of  exclusive  dependence 
upon  the  occasion,  and  that  of  self-reliance  when  the 
occasion  fails.  Quintilian  and  Cicero  had  no  such  prej- 
udice as  that  which  tangles  the  modern  authorities  upon 
public  speaking. 

Blair  says  :  "  We  must  take  care  never  to  counterfeit 


THE   SELF-RELIANCE  FOR  PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  57 

warmth  without  feeling  it."  Here  is  the  fallacy  that  all 
self-induced  warmth  or  feeling  is  dishonest,  and  all 
warmth  or  feeling  produced  by  the  occasion  is  necessarily 
honest.  ' '  The  very  aspect  of  a  large  assembly  attentive 
to  the  voice  of  one  man  is  sufficient  to  inspire  that  man 
with  such  elevation  and  warmth  as  gives  rise  to  strong 
impressions."  Now,  why  should  the  warmth  inspired 
by  an  audience  be  more  honest  than  that  inspired  by  his 
own  reflections  and  imagination  ?  But  "  he  must  not 
allow  impetuosity  to  carry  him  too  far."  If  he  may 
stop  his  warmth,  or  restrain  it,  why  may  he  not  create 
it  ?  "  He  must  not  kindle  too  soon."  If  the  moment 
for  being  kindled  is  under  his  control,  why  may  not  the 
kindling  itself  be  subject  to  his  will  ?  If  he  is  allowed 
to  say  when  he  shall  feel  the  emotion,  why  is  he  not 
allowed  to  say  whether  he  shall  feel  it  or  not  ?  If 
Demosthenes,  as  Blair  says,  is  to  be  commended  for 
kindling  his  audience  "  by  calling  up  the  names  of  those 
who  fell  at  Marathon,"  and  Cicero  his  "  by  apostro- 
phizing the  Alban  hills  and  groves,"  why  are  not  De- 
mosthenes and  Cicero  and  Dr.  Blair  justified  in  resorting 
to  the  same  or  some  other  devices  for  kindling  and  firing 
their  own  emotions  ?  Our  teacher  of  the  awful  rules  of 
rhetoric  soon  forgets  his  own  rules,  for  he  tells  the 
lawyer  that  he  must  do  just  what  he  says  all  public 
speakers  must  avoid  doing — assume  the  virtue  of  warmth 
if  he  has  it  not.  "  It  has  a  bad  effect  upon  his  cause  for 
him  to  appear  indifferent  or  unmoved."  If  he  is  not 
self-reliant  for  his  emotion,  how  can  he  avoid  appearing 
unmoved  ? 

Blunt,  another  of  our  setters  of  the  public  speakers  to 
rights,  says  :  "  Eloquence  must  be  the  voice  of  one 
earnestly  endeavoring  to  deliver  his  own  soul."  Sup- 


58  BEFORE   AN  AUDIENCE. 

pose  we  have  no  soul  to  deliver,  or  a  miserable  wee 
squeak  of  a  soul.  We  will  squeak  in  delivering  it 
"Must  be  the  outpouring  of  ideas  rushing  for  vent." 
Suppose  we  have  to  speak  without  ideas,  or  those  we 
have  do  not  rush  ?  "  Must  be  the  Psalmist's  experience, 
the  untutored  effort  of  a  heart  hot  within  till  the  fire 
kindles,  and  at  the  last  speaks  with  his  tongue."  Sup- 
pose we  have  the  experience  of  the  wretched  hack  of  a 
lecturer  who  must  speak,  tutored  or  untutored,  or  take 
board  at  the  poor-house.  But  that  is  not  all.  "  It  must 
be  the  prophet's  experience,  a  word  in  the  heart  as  a 
burning  fire  shut  up  in  his  bones,  so  that  he  is  weary  of 
forbearing  and  cannot  stay."  But  how  is  one  to  have 
the  experience  of  a  Hebrew  prophet  if  one  is  only  an 
American  parson  over  a  small  church  and  a  large  family  ? 
The  self-reliance  indispensable  for  the  highest  success 
in  public  speaking  keeps  the  speaker  superior  to  his  sur- 
roundings, and  never  allows  his  surround- 
Keep  Yourself  ing8  to  get  tlie  upper  nand  of  fom  jie 

is  not  to  fail  because  his  audience  does. 
to  Your 

Surroundings.  I^t  *ne  audience  be  ever  so  small,  and 
the  circumstances  ever  so  disheartening, 
he  is  to  "  come  up  smiling"  and  go  through  his  per- 
formance with  the  best  credit  to  himself — or,  rather,  to 
his  art.  This  is  the  art  spirit,  and  the  more  we  are  pos- 
sessed with  it  the  higher  the  quality  of  our  success, 
whatever  be  its  quantity.  The  best  training  for  speak- 
ing well  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  is  speak- 
ing as  well  as  you  can  under  the  most  disadvantageous 
circumstances. 

The  speaker  who  has  no  self-reliance,  and  is  entirely 
dependent  upon  his  surroundings  for  his  "  earnestness," 
is  the  speaker  who  knows  the  least  of  how  to  make  the 
most  of  his  surroundings — the  high  tide  of  the  occasion 


THE   SELF-BELIANCE   FOB  PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  59 

and  the  high  tide  of  his  own  emotions.  This  provision 
against  the  emergency  when  the  heaven  over  us  is  brass 
and  the  audience  around  us  is  brass,  too,  provides  also 
lor  those  tides  in  the  afiairs  of  men— -religious,  reforma- 
tory, or  political — which  are  taken  at  the  flood  by 
preacher  or  agitator,  and  lead  on  to  vast  results. 


V. 

THE  AET   OF  BEING  NATURAL. 

AH  !  now  we  have  it.  "  Be  natural,"  and  you'll  be 
right.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  do  right.  This  is  the 
one  be-all  and  the  end-all  of  our  setters  of  the  world  to 
rights.  Why  should  it  not  be  the  panacea  for  the  setters 
of  the  speakers  to  rights  ?  It  is  very  evident  that  two 
definitions  of  the  word  natural  are  playing  leap-frog  in 
the  minds  of  those  who  are  forever  and  ever  prescribing 
it  to  preachers.  One  of  these  definitions  is :  The 
delivery  that  comes  to  the  speaker  when  he  gets  upon 
his  legs  before  an  audience  ;  the  other  definition  is  : 
Graceful  deportment  and  effectiveness  of  speech.  The 
former  is  the  true  definition,  but  the  latter  is  the  pre- 
dominant one  in  the  public  mind  of  the  speaker's  critics, 
and  the  "  little  member"  of  the  audience.  This  is  illus- 
trated by  the  fact  that  the  examples  of  the  "  natural  " 
style  pointed  out  for  our  imitation  are  those  speakers 
who  are  naturally  graceful  and  effective,  while  those 
who  are  naturally  awkward  and  ineffective  are  held  up 
as  warnings.  If  there  is  some  inconsistency  with  this  in 
the  habit  of  invoking  John  the  Baptist  and  Saul  of 
Tarsus  as  examples,  it  is  only  another  illustration  of  the 
fact  that  the  speaker's  critics  have  a  zeal  of  oratory,  but 
not  according  to  common  sense.  As  well  expect  to 
preach  in  the  Baptist's  camel's-hair  shawl.  The  rhetoric 
of  the  forerunner  was  as  ''  natural  "  to  him  as  his  cos- 
tume. And  his  one-headed  exhortation  was  as  natural 


THE   ART  OF   BEING   NATURAL.  61 

as  (alas  !)  are  our  hydra-headed  discourses.  The  crab 
and  the  trout  are  equally  natural  ;  so  are  the  eagle  and 
the  muscovy  duck. 

The  effective  preacher  is  indebted  to  "  nature"  for  his 
efficiency,  and  tho  ineffective  preacher  may  complain  of 
nature  for  his  deficiency.  Both  are  in  earnest,  both  are 
themselves,  both  are  full  of  the  subject,  both  have  faith 
(perhaps  the  inefficient  one  more  than  the  other),  and 
there  is  a  bare  possibility  that  the  ' '  unnatural ' '  one 
would  go  down  to  his  house  every  Sunday  justified 
rather  than  the  other. 

This  "natural"  theory  is  to  be  found  in  Whately's 
rhetoric.    He  advocates  the  "  natural  man- 
ner,"   and   defines    it   as    "that   manner      Whately's 

Natural 
which  one  naturally  falls  into  when  really       Manner  " 

speaking  in  earnest — with  mind  exclu- 
sively intent  upon  what  we  have  to  say."  The  truth  is, 
as  we  have  seen,  that  the  most  in  earnest  are  often  the 
most  ineffective,  because  indistinct  and  slovenly.  They 
are  "  exclusively  intent  upon  what  they  have  to  say," 
and  that  is  the  reason  why  they  exclude  all  reference  or 
attention  from  the  art  of  saying  it.  Take  for  illustra- 
tion an  example  of  this  Archbishop  Whately  himself  ! 
Here  is  his  "  natural  manner"  as  described  by  a  contem- 
porary : 

"  He  goes  through  his  addresses  in  so  clumsy  and  in- 
animate a  way  that  noble  lords  at  once  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  nothing  so  befits  him  as  unbroken  silence. 
He  speaks  in  so  low  a  tone  as  to  be  inaudible  to  those 
who  are  any  distance  from  him.  And  not  only  is  his 
voice  low  in  its  tones,  but  it  is  unpleasant  from  its 
monotony.  In  his  manner  (natural  manner  ?)  there  is 
not  a  particle  of  life  or  spirit.  You  would  fancy  his 
grace  to  be  half  asleep  while  speaking.  You  sec  so  little 


\JZ  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE- 

appearance  of  consciousness  about  him  that  you  can 
hardly  help  doubting  whether  his  legs  will  support  him 
until  he  has  finished  his  address." 

If  that  is  the  manner  that  naturally  comes  to  the 
speaker  whose  mind  is  exclusively  intent  upon  what  he 
has  to  say,  and  it  certainly  is,  would  it  not  be  well  to  try 
a  manner  that  will  give  the  speaker  a  little  more  appear- 
ance of  consciousness  and  the  audience  a  little  more  con- 
fidence in  its  speaker's  legs  ? 

Suppose  you  have  what  is  called  family  discipline  in 
your  house,  as  your  grandfather,  possibly  your  father, 
had  in  his  house.  It  would  not  proceed  upon  the  idea, 
would  it,  that  the  boy  should  be  left  to  adopt  the 
manners  that  come  to  him  ?  You  would  not  begin  and 
end  your  instruction  by  saying  :  Be  natural,  my  boy, 
and  you  will  be  right ;  or,  Be  in  earnest,  and  you  will 
soon  learn  how  to  keep  your  feet  off  the  chair-rung,  and 
your  stare  off  the  visitor  ;  or,  Be  yourself,  and  you  will 
never  pick  your  teeth  at  the  table,  or  your  nose  in  the 
church.  Would  you  not  the  rather  take  for  granted 
that  the  manners  which  come  to  a  boy  when  left  to  him- 
self and  his  comrades  of  the  public  school  are  the  wrong 
ones  ?  And  would  you  not  endeavor  by  a  combination 
of  his  will  and  yours  to  so  work  upon  his  sense  of 
decorum  as  to  give  him  a  new  set  of  natural  manners  ? 
As  you  would  do  with  your  naturally  bad-mannered 
boy,  you  should  do  with  your  naturally  bad -mannered 
self  if  you  are  a  preacher  or  a  lawyer.  There  are  a 
few  speakers  of  whom  it  may  be  said  they  are  justified 
in  preserving  and  using  the  delivery  which  comes  tr 
them  when  they  get  upon  their  legs.  Of  every  one 
of  the  remainder  we  may  say  their  natural  delivery 
is  wrong,  or  not  right,  or  it  is  more  or  less  ineffective. 
They  should  somewhat  change,  or  altogether  alter,  the 


THE   ART   OF   BEING   NATURAL.  63 

delivery  which  comes  to  them,   or  substitute  another 
which  they  compel  to  come  to  them. 

The  difficulty  with  most  of  them  is  that  they  adopt, 
acquiesce  in,  and  nence  cultivate  by  practice  the  delivery 
which  comes  to  them,  which  delivery  is  ineffective.  Or 
it  is  not  so  effective  as  another  which  they  could  acquire, 
if  they  (1)  were  conscious  of  their  defect,  (2)  roused 
themselves  to  reflect  upon  it,  and  (3)  set  themselves  to 
remedy  it. 

The  elocution,  too,  that  comes  to  the      A  Natural 

,  ,         ,  ,,  ,.  Elocution  May 

speaker  when  he  comes  to  the  audience  is     be  Rjeht  or 

perfectly  natural  to  him,  though  it  may         Wrong, 
be  far  from  the  most  effective  elocution 
for  him.     It  may  be  natural  and  wrong.     It  is  therefore 
his  duty  to  acquire  an  elocution  which  will  be  natural 
and  right. 

You  say  of  a  speaker,  he  does  not  use  that  elocution 
in  private  conversation,  why  does  he  use  it  in  public 
speaking.  His  conversational  elocution  is  natural,  his 
public  elocution  is  unnatural.  No,  his  public  elocution 
is  just  as  natural  to  him  as  his  private  elocution.  It  is 
the  elocution  with  its  emphases  and  cadences  that  comes 
to  him  when  he  speaks  in  public  or  talks  in  private. 
Here  is  his  difficulty  ;  he  knows  how  to  speak  to  a  friend 
on  the  street,  he  does  not  know  how  to  speak  to  one 
hundred  friends  in  the  hall  or  church.  In  the  first 
place,  he  takes  for  granted,  what  has  always  been  taken 
for  granted,  that  the  elocution  of  public  speaking  is 
radically  different  from  the  elocution  of  private  talking. 
That  is  a  blunder  as  embarrassing  as  it  is  egregious — a 
blunder,  indeed,  sufficient  of  itself  to  disconcert  and 
throw  any  one  who  stands  before  an  audience  for  the 
first  time.  What  with  the  embarrassment  caused  by  the 
presence  of  an  audience,  or  audience- fright,  and  the 


64  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

embarrassment  caused  by  this  misapprehension,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  speaker  falls  into  all  manner  of  cadences, 
emphatics,  and  theatrics,  bello wings,  and  whisperings, 
and  inarticulate  earnestnesses  that  cleave  the  general  ear 
without  even  so  much  as  making  itself  intelligible  to  the 
general  intellect. 

In  private  conversation  the  speaker  may  have  a  defec- 
tive elocution  from  lack  of  will,  and  knowing  what  he 
and  his  elocution  are  about ;  but  in  his  public  discourse 
his  elocution  is  incomparably  more  defective  for  the  two 
reasons  that  have  just  been  given.  It  is  a  curious  fact, 
and  another  fact  illustrating  the  individuality  of  the  art 
of  public  speaking,  that  a  man  who  can  hardly  utter  a 
sentence  without  blundering  in  private  will  deliver  a 
speech  remarkably  correct  in  syntax.  Few,  however, 
speak  as  well  before  an  audience  as  they  do  before  a 
friend  or  two,  in  the  matter  of  elocution. 

Here  we  are  again  upon  the  question  of  constancy. 
The  elocution  of  the  actor  and  reader  may  be  laid  away 
when  not  in  use  ;  the  elocution  of  the  speaker  should  be, 
must  be  always  in  use.  He  may  practise  the  articula- 
tion, enunciation,  the  orotund  voice  and  the  ear  for 
cadence  and  vocabulary,  in  his  private  conversation  as 
well  as  in  his  public  speech. 

The  necessity  for  this  is  self-evident  when  you  reflect 
that  the  colloquial  element  is  the  fundamental  and  pre- 
dominant element  of  all  public  speaking.  In  scientific 
lecturing,  in  all  teaching  by  lecturing,  it  is,  indeed,  the 
only  element.  And  when  we  remember  how  much  of 
teaching  is  done  by  lecturing,  we  can  form  some  idea  of 
the  importance  to  be  attached  to  a  distinct,  vivacious, 
and  vigorous  colloquial  elocution.  It  may  be  cultivated 
indefinitely.  "  He  is  a  good  talker"  is  a  compliment 
worthy  of  any  public  speaker's  ambition.  From  the* 


THE   AKT  OF  BEING   NATURAL.  65 

colloquial  elocution  the  speaker  may  rise  into  the  dramatic 
or  oratorical,  but  his  mainstay  and  stronghold  is  the  con- 
versational. 

A   good   elocutionary  instinct    is   invaluable  to  the 
speaker,  and  he  should  learn  how  to  disci- 
pline  and  regulate  it.     His  will  should    ^he  Natural 

have  it  under  control,  and  he  should  not    /"a  ences 

be  Kegulated 

allow  it  to  be  disconcerted  or  embarrassed  by  Art. 
by  the  audience,  or  the  arbitrary  rules  of 
the  professional  emphasizers.  He  learns  the  "  time" 
and  rhythm  of  speech  just  as  the  newsboy  learns  it — by 
the  practice  of  the  elocutionary  instinct.  The  newsboy 
who  cries  his  paper  perfectly  on  the  street  would  fail  if 
asked  to  do  it  on  the  platform  before  an  audience.  The 
audience  throws  him  just  as  it  does  the  speaker.  His 
cadences  and  all  the  cadences  known  to  song,  chant,  ser- 
mon, or  speech  are  perfectly  natural.  To  be  right  they 
must  be  regulated  by  art. 

The  head-notes  of  the  American  speaker  are  just  as 
natural  to  him  as  the  Briton's  chest-notes  are  to  him,  or 
the  German's  guttural  is  to  him  just  as  natural  as  the 
climate  that  causes  them.  All  the  whines  and  twangs 
and  tones  and  intones  and  cadences  to  which  public 
speakers  are  addicted  are  perfectly  natural.  Nature 
gives  us  the  cadence  of  the  English  Church  clergy,  the 
several  American  pulpit  cadences,  the  Southern  inflec- 
tion and  the  New  England,  the  pioneer  Methodists'  and 
the  scholarly  Presbyterians'.  From  the  same  source  we 
obtain  also  the  intoned  services  of  the  Catholics  in  their 
cathedrals,  and  the  Druids  in  the  "  vast  cathedral  of 
nature,"  the  chantings  in  the  Jewish  synagogue  and 
heathen  temple,  as  well  as  the  intonations  of  the  newsboy 
as  he  cries  his  paper  on  the  street,  and  of  the  porter  as 
he  fills  the  hotel  with  the  next  train's  departure,  and  of 


66  BEFORE    AN   AUDIENCE. 

the  dog  who  throws  up  his  nose  and  bays  at  midnight  in 
response  to  a  distant  salutation. 

There  are  places,  such  as  the  cathedrals,  where  the 
Italian  preachers  produce  their  powerful  effects  by  a 
prolongation  of  the  vowels,  and  outdoors,  where  the 
Greek  orators  to  this  day  are  obliged  to  obey  the  same 
law.  We  Americans  need  not  speak  in  the  undulatory 
cadences  of  the  cathedral  orators,  because  we  do  not 
speak  in  cathedrals.  The  Italian  preacher  is  so  highly 
endowed  with  the  elocutionary  instinct  (as  all  the 
Southern  and  Eastern  races  are)  that  he  has  more  variety 
and  diversity  in  his  elocution  than  we  have  with  all  our 
advantage  of  smaller  place  and  audience.  I  shall  re- 
member the  preachers  I  heard,  in  common  with  twenty 
thousand  persons,  in  St.  Peter's  during  the  (Ecumenical 
Council,  so  long  as  memory  holds  her  seat.  It  seemed, 
indeed,  as  if  the  oratorical  instinct  could  no  farther  go. 
The  sentiment  could  be  followed  by  following  the  gestic- 
ulation. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  spoke  with  a  strongly  marked 
cadence.  Their  elocution  of  both  the  stage  and  the 
rostrum  was  a  kind  of  recitative,  sometimes  set  to  music 
and  accompanied  by  instruments. 

The  reading  aloud  which  is  still  common  on  the  high- 
ways  of  the  East  is  done  with  an  undulatory  cadence, 
and  with  a  swinging  of  the  body  and  head  as  if  to  keep 
time.  No  wonder  that,  as  the  eunuch's  elocution  was 
very  much  like  that  which  we  hear  in  the  pulpits  of  our 
day,  Philip  should  have  asked  the  reader  if  he  under, 
stood  what  he  read. 

As  for  the  religious  aspect  of  this  question,  it  deserves 
all  the  ridicule  which  it  receives.  There  is  only  one 
thing  more  ludicrous  about  the  sanctimonious  whine  than 
the  whine  itself,  and  that  is  the  unconscious  use  of  it  by 


THE  ART  OF  BEING   NATURAL.  67 

really  devout  and  otherwise  sensible  men.  However, 
even  that  is  perfectly  natural.  It  is  as  natural  for  man 
as  it  is  for  his  dog  to  whine.  No  animal  makes  a  sound 
that  is  not  natural  to  him. 

The  Welsh  hywl  has  been  attributed  by  some  writers 
to  the  Welsh  temperament,  and  by  a  recent  one — Mr. 
Owen  Jones — to  the  same  origin  from  which  our  Puritan 
forefathers  were  supposed  to  derive  their  "  nasal 
psalmody" — viz.,  "the  divine  spirit."  Bat  tempera- 
ments far  away  from  Wales  geographically,  mentally, 
and  religiously  are  addicted  to  a  similar  cadence.  It  is 
nature,  human  nature,  and  that  continually,  and  that 
everywhere.  It  is  the  instinct  for  doing  a  thing  and  say- 
ing a  thing  in  the  easiest  possible  way  asserting  itself  in 
a  man  who  has  so  much  to  say  that  it  is  no  wonder  he 
seeks,  and  finds,  and  practises  the  easiest  possible  way. 

This  intonation,  or  cadence,  or  dwelling  on  the  sylla- 
ble, or  prolonging  the  vowel  sounds,  is  a 

provision  of  nature  against  a  contingency.  A  Provision  of 
i.  .  .,  ,  ,.  °  ..  ..6  '  Nature  Against 

It  is  the  elocutionary  instinct  exacting  the  a  contingency 

prolongation,  in  order  to  be  heard.  The 
intone  is  easier  to  speak  and  easier  to  be  heard.  But 
it  is  equally  natural  for  us  to  fall  into  the  intone  as 
a  habit  without  reference  to  the  contingency.  Why  ? 
Because  Nature  seeks  her  ease,  as  water  seeks  its  level. 
The  monotones  we  hear  so  much,  and  hear  criticised  so 
much,  are  universal  because  they  are  the  easiest  tones  or 
cadences  in  which  to  make  a  speech  in  public,  but  not 
for  making  a  remark  in  private.  People  say  of  their 
preacher  :  He  does  not  whine  it  off  in  that  manner  when 
he  converses,  why  should  he  when  he  preaches  ?  The 
answer  is  obvious.  Nature,  who  takes  the  delivery  that 
comes  to  her  (or  him),  whether  in  pulpit  or  drawing- 
room,  finds  the  staccato  easiest  in  the  latter,  and  the 


68  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

intone  easiest  in  the  former.  This  intonation,  or  chant, 
has  an  ally  in  our  indolence — in  an  indolent,  if  not  an 
inert  will.  It  is  the  universal  way  of  speaking  because 
it  is  the  easiest  way  of  speaking,  and  it  is  the  easiest  way 
because  it  is  the  natural  way.  There  is  an  African  chant 
precisely  like  that  of  the  Quaker  preacher.  It  is  the 
chant  that  comes  to  preachers  when  they  get  upon  their 
legs  before  their  congregation,  and  simply  want  to  "be 
natural  "  and  forget  themselves  and  think  only  of  their 
subject. 

If  you  would  know  how  much  easier  you  can  speak  in 
the  Quaker  sing-song  than  even  in  your  own,  which 
may  not  be  so  complete  or  arbitrary,  try  it.  I  broke 
myself  of  an  intone  which  grew  out  of  the  New  England 
literary  one,  only  to  fall  into  another  which  I  heard  in 
Scotland.  Sometimes  a  speaker  is  discredited  for  imita- 
tion, when  he  is  trying  to  extricate  himself  from  its 
meshes.  If  you  have  imitation  large  do  not  use  it  for 
the  amusement  of  your  friends.  Some  Americans  have 
learned  (unconsciously)  to  drop  their  H's  by  imitating 
that  defect  in  the  English.  And  let  it  never  be  for- 
gotten that  where  they  drop  one  H,  we  drop  one  hun- 
dred and  one  other  little  matters  and  things  of  the 
highest  importance  in  elocution,  such  as  ed,  ing,  ow, 
etc.  No  American  pronounces  his  r  or  er.  If  you 
doubt  this,  listen  when  you  try  to  say  North  or  New 
York.  Let  us  take  the  beams  out  of  Jonathan's  mouth, 
that  he  may  have  more  excuse  for  taking  the  motes  out 
of  John's.  This  is  done  by  turning  the  will  upon  our 
mouths,  and  keeping  it  turned  thitherward  until  the 
remedy  is  effected.  Keep  the  will  away  from  the  bron- 
chitis, but  turn  it  with  all  the  might  upon  the  precipitate 
shrieks. 

Such  is  the  depravity  of  the  will  that  it  is  delighted  to 


THE   ART  OF  BEING   NATURAL.  69 

be  turned  upon  the  member  for  its  injury,  but  sullenly 
refuses  to  budge  when  it  is  desired  to  effect  a  cure  of  the 
disordered  part.  It  leaps  with  alacrity  to  give  a  preacher 
the  laryngitis,  or  the  hypogrundia,  and  will  not  stir 
when  implored  to  prevent  him  from  being  so  much  "  in 
earnest"  as  to  be  inarticulate,  and  so  "  natural  "  as  to 
fail  in  every  excellence  which  goes  to  constitute  an  effec- 
tive speaker. 

Inflection  is  to  be  left  to  the  elocution- 
ary  instinct,  to  the  ear  for  inflection.     It    be  Left  to  the 
is  not  to  be  learned  from  such  a  rule  as  Training  of  the 
this,  for  example,  which  I  find  in  one  of    Elocutionary 
the  books  of  elocution. 

Rule  1. — Whenever  the  sense  of  a  sentence,  or  clause 
of  a  sentence,  is  as  yet  incomplete  or  suspended,  then 
the  rising  inflection  is  to  be  used,  as  in  the  following  : 

"  I  am  sure,  were  the  noble  lords  as  well  acquainted 
as  I  am  with  but  half  the  difficulty  and  delays  occasioned 
in  the  courts  of  justice  under  the  pretence  of  privilege, 
they  would  not — nay,  could  not — oppose  this  bill." 

I  am  sure,  were  the  noble  lord  as  well  acquainted  as  I 
am  with  but  half  the  difficulty  and  delay  occasioned  by 
trying  to  speak  his  speech  according  to  such  a  rule  as 
this,  he  would  thank  me  for  delivering  him  from  it  and 
inducing  him  to  try  his  own  ear  upon  his  own  inflec- 
tions. 

Another  of  the  rules  of  the  elocutionist  is  :  "  Pause 
before  and  after  the  emphatic  word,  and  put  a  circum- 
flex on  it. " 

Where  did  you  get  this  rule  ? 

From  conversation. 

Finding  that  we  do  this  naturally,  let  us  do  it  mechan- 
ically. We  do  it  by  instinct  in  private  talking,  let  us  do 
it  by  rule  in  public  speaking.  Finding  that  while  eating 


70  BEFORE   AN 

every  time  your  elbow  bends  your  mouth  flies  open, 
therefore  this  rule  :  When  your  elbow  bends,  open  your 
mouth  !  Nonsense  !  Leave  the  pauses,  emphasis,  and 
circumflex  where  you  found  them,  and  cultivate  the  ear 
for  pauses,  emphasis,  and  circumflex.  If  you  deprive 
the  speaker  of  his  pauses  and  emphases  and  inflections, 
what  is  there  left  for  his  brains  ? 

Walker  is  the  father  or  grandfather  of  this  attempt  to 
reduce  the  art  of  public  speaking  to  an  elocutionary 
science,  and  failed,  as  he  confessed  in  one  of  his  prefaces. 

He  and  all  his  disciples  proceed  upon  the  assumption 
that  in  order  to  acquire  the  proper  emphasis  for  your 
speech  or  sermon,  you  have  only  to  commit  to  memory 
the  emphases  which  they  dictate  for  certain  passages 
which  they  select  from  Shakespeare  or  Milton. 

Even  if  their  emphasis  were  necessarily  the  correct 
one  for  the  passage  which  they  select,  it  is  not  of  the 
slightest  use  in  the  attempt  to  find  the  emphasis  of  your 
speech  on  the  tariff,  or  your  sermon  on  Self-Deception. 
Suppose  the  preacher  does  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer  with 
the  emphasis  and  pauses  and  devout  grimaces  of  his 
teacher,  what  then  ?  Does  it  follow  that  the  teacher 
was  right  ?  And  if  he  was  wrong  his  pupil  will  repeat 
his  blunders  in  so  set  and  stereotyped  a  way  as  to  pre 
elude  all  possibility  of  his  reform. 

The  books  on  elocution,  the  "  Speakers"  and 
"  Readers"  will  even  give  you  the  "  time,"  as  though 
they  were  teaching  instrumental  music.  To  subject  the 
actor  to  such  a  harness  is  bad  enough,  but  to  put  it  upon 
the  public  speaker  is  worse — it  is  fatal.  "  Time"  in 
music  is  fixed,  though  even  then  it  is  sometimes  defied 
by  genius  ;  but  in  public  speaking  it  is  indispensable 
that  it  be  unfixed  and  left  to  the  elocutionary  instinct, 
the  will,  the  mood,  the  judgment,  the  tact,  the  ear  for 


THE  AET  OF  BEING  NATUBAL.  71 

emphasis,  inflection,  and  modulation.  "  Come,  thou 
fount  of  every  blessing"  may  have  very  different  time  in 
the  music  than  it  has  in  the  supplicatory  elocution  of  the 
speaker,  or,  for  that  matter,  the  reciter.  The  emphasis 
of  the  Lord's  Prayer  depends  upon  which  idea  or  feeling 
of  it  is  emphatic  in  the  one  who  repeats  it.  The  best 
preachers  sometimes  get  their  "  heads"  out  of  the  words 
of  their  text,  emphasizing  each  in  its  turn,  as  :  Our,  and 
Father,  and  heaven,  etc. 

The  elocutionist  picks  up  these  "renderings"  of  the 
stage  and  peddles  them  out  to  the  preachers,  who  in  turn 
manage  to  pick  them  up  by  mimicry  and  memory  ;  so 
that  they  may  be  able  finally  to  render  "  To  be  or  not  to 
be"  as  emphatically  as  their  teacher  ;  but  to  be  or  not  to 
be  benefited,  that  is  the  question.  Whether  it  is  nobler 
to  endure  this  nonsense  longer,  or  take  up  arms  against 
it  and  reform  it  altogether,  for,  whatever  help  it  may  be 
to  the  player  or  reciter,  it  is  not  only  not  helpful,  it  is 
positively  mischievous  to  the  speaker. 

A  few  speakers  have  the  elocutionary  instinct  in  a 
high  state  of  development  to  begin  with,  a  few  more 
have  it  in  so  sensitive  and  teachable  a  condition  that  it  is 
soon  brought  to  a  high  state  of  development  ;  but  the 
great  majority  have  it  in  so  low  and  torpid  a  state  to 
begin  with,  and  the  will  is  also  so  low  and  torpid,  that 
the  instinct  gets  but  little  beyond  its  original  state  and 
condition. 

Inflection  and  emphasis — in  fact,  everything  that  con- 
cerns public  speaking,  is  to  be  left,  not  to  "  nature,"  by 
which  is  meant  nobody  and  nothing,  but  to  the  training 

of  the  judgment,  instinct,  reason,  tact. 

o  .11  ,••       i        ,.      .  ,  £         Gesticulation 

borne  will  even  go  to  the  elocutionist  for       .     R  j 

their  gestures,  or  the  rules  by  which  their 

gestures  are  to  be  created  and  regulated.     Imagine  the 


78  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

speaker,  imagine  Whitefield,  Bossuet,  Fox,  Clay,  or 
Gladstone  making  his  gestures  with  this  rule  in  his  mind 
and — hands  ! 

"  When  the  hand  has  once  been  brought  into  action 
in  gesture,  instead  of  dropping  to  the  side,  and  then 
being  brought  up  again  for  a  similar  purpose,  it  should 
generally  remain  in  its  position  till  relieved  by  the  other 
hand,  or  till  it  passes  into  a  state  of  preparation  for  a 
succeeding  gesture. ' ' 

Would  you  do  nothing  about  gestures  ?  I  would 
leave  them  to  the  eye  of  the  speaker,  urging  him  to  see 
to  the  training  of  his  eye  for  the  movements  of  his  legs 
and  arms.  Besides,  pruning  is  perilous.  Awkwardness 
and  strength  are  often  inseparable  in  man,  as  well  as 
the  ox. 

Some  of  the  most  effective  speakers  are  personally 
awkward.  Their  "  natural  manner"  would  be  grotesque 
but  for  the  oratory  that  comes  with  it,  and  is,  indeed, 
inseparable  from  it.  Prune  them,  and  you  destroy 
them.  Their  awkwardness  would  pass  from  their  gestic- 
ulation to  their  thought  or  language,  or  both.  Few  of 
the  Scotch  preachers  are  graceful,  and  few  but  what 
have  force  and  galvanic  power.  Alexander  Duff  held 
up  the  left  half  of  his  coat-tail  under  his  left  arm,  and 
even  sometimes  bit  his  finger-ends  in  the  midst  of  his 
most  impressive  oratorical  flights.  Arnot,  Candlish, 
Macleod,  Cairns — none  of  them  were  up  in  the  awful 
rules  for  the  ' '  palm  gesture, ' '  the  dancing  attitudes,  or 
the  "rising  inflection."  Would  you  spoil  a  dancing- 
master  to  make  a  preacher,  or  a  preacher  to  make  ? 
dancing-master  ? 

The  learning  of  gesticulation,  attitudes,  and  the  like 
under  the  tuition  of  a  professional  elocutionist  cannot 
but  belittle  the  great  art  of  public  speaking  in  the  eati- 


THE  ART  OF   BEING   NATURAL.  73 

mation  of  the  speaker.  The  very  thought  of  it  is  en- 
feebling, and  makes  him,  or  ought  to  make  him,  feel 
ashamed  of  himself.  It  ought  to  make  him  feel  as  silly 
as  he  looks. 

Did  you  ever  know  a  professional  elocutionist  or 
teacher  of  emphasis  and  gesture,  or,  in  a  word,  the 
teacher  of  the  imitative  system  of  elocution,  to  be  a 
public  speaker  ?  Some  of  them  are  excellent  public 
readers,  few  have  ever  excelled  as  actors  ;  nevertheless, 
they  are  really  of  great  service  to  those  who  wish  to 
play,  recite,  or  read,  because  these  arts  are  so  largely 
concerned  with  a  merely  mechanical  "rendering"  of 
certain  pieces  of  dramatic  composition  which  may  be 
learned  by  rote.  A  fair  memory,  a  fair  voice,  a  fair 
instinct  for  mimicry,  and,  if  the  person  be  a  lady,  a  fair 
show  in  the  flesh,  not  to  speak  of  the  artifices  of  cos- 
tume, and  you  have  the  public  reader  with  testimonials 
even  overtopping  those  that  burden  the  circular  of  the 
rising  "  Cicero  of  America."  "Wonder  if  Cicero  called 
himself  the  Snicklefritz  of  Rome  ? 

The  art  of  being  natural  in  rhetoric  is  the  result  of 
genius  with  a  few,  with  a  Goldsmith,  per- 
haps ;  but  it  is  the  fruit  of  much  cultiva-      *  Natural 
. .       to.  c  ..  Rhetoric  to  be 

tion  in  the  most  of  us,  whether  writers  or       Acquired 

speakers.  When  Jacobi  was  congratulated 
upon  the  ease  with  which  he  wrote,  he  replied  :  "  You 
have  little  idea  of  the  labor  I  expend  in  attaining  per- 
spicuity." He  sometimes  copied  five  times.  Rousseau 
wrote  "  Emile"  nine  times  over.  Schiller  was  as  pains- 
taking, and  even  Goldsmith  spent  three  years  on  the 
"  Deserted  Village."  Moore  thought  nothing  of  spend- 
ing one  month  on  one  song,  and  Burns  mooned  for  hours 
before  he  put  pen  to  paper.  Disraeli's  wonderful  im- 
promptu invective  deceived  the  multitude,  but  the  initi- 


74  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

ated  could  easily  detect  Burke's  form  in  Disraeli's  sar- 
casms, as  well  as  his  cadences  in  Macaulay'  s  descriptions. 
Johnson  said  Addison  was  the  master  to  study  for  Par- 
liamentary style.  The  orator  "  should  give  his  days 
and  nights  to  Addison."  Edward  Irving  followed 
Barrow  and  Jeremy  Taylor.  Pitt  was,  perhaps,  one  of 
the  most  striking  examples  of  study  and  painstaking  in 
the  acquisition  of  vocabulary  and  style.  Bishop  Burnet 
was  scarcely  less  studious  of  expression.  Cardinal  New- 
man, one  of  the  greatest  masters  of  vocabulary  and 
rhythm  and  cadence  in  rhetoric,  has  given  an  account  of 
the  mental  discipline  to  which  he  subjected  himself  in 
order  to  create  the  natural  style  which  has  made  him 
famous. 

'"  "  Because  my  style  is  easy  and  natural,"  said  Kean, 
"  they  think  I  don't  study,  and  talk  about  the  sudden 
impulse  of  genius.  There  is  no  such  thing.  All  is 
studied  beforehand.  The  speeches  which,  to  my  certain 
knowledge,  sounded  most  impromptu  were  the  most 
carefully  studied  beforehand.  Furthermore,  what  is 
popularly  known  as  the  impulse  of  genius  is  the  result 
of  long  training  in  vocabulary,  in  improvisation,  and  in 
handling  audiences." 

The  late  Thomas  Buckle,  we  are  told,  studied  style  for 
u  force  and  clearness,"  and  as  he  certainly 
How  Buckle     attained  these  two  qualities,  it  is  useful  to 
and  Clearness    those  wno  d°  no*  ge^  their  rhetoric  by  in- 
spiration to  know  by  what  method  he  made 
the  attainment.     While  studying  style  practically  for  his 
own  future  use,  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  taking  a 
subject,    whether  argument   or    narrative,    from    some 
author — Burke,  for  instance — and  to  write  himself,  fol- 
lowing, of  course,  the  same  line  of  thought,  and  then 
comparing  his  passage  with  the  original,  analyzing  the 


THE   ART   OF   BEING   NATURAL.  75 

different  treatment,  so  as  to  make  it  evident  to  himseli 
where  and  how  he  had  failed  to  express  the  meaning 
with  the  same  vigor,  or  terseness,  or  simplicity.  Force 
and  clearness  were  his  principal  aim. 

Force  and  clearness  are  very  suitable  qualifications  for 
the  public  speaker,  and  he  may  copy  Mr.  Buckle's 
method  of  securing  it  with  advantage.  He  will  never 
attain  Buckle's  "  vigor,  terseness,  or  simplicity"  without 
cultivating  Buckle's  rhetorical  ear  for  vigor,  terseness, 
and  simplicity. 

The  art  of  being  natural  in  the  rhetoric  or  delivery  of 
public  speaking  is  acquired,  not  by  the  rules  of  the 
books,  but  by  an  exercise  of  the  will,  the  rhetorical 
judgment,  and  the  rhetorical  taste  ;  by  knowing  what 
you  are  about,  by  making  the  most  of  yourself,  by  a 
study  of  rhetoric,  and  the  practice  of  it. 

Landseer  says  when  a  color  does  not  suit  him,  he 
scrapes  it  off  and  tries  another.  So  does  the  artist  with 
his  colors  in  rhetoric. 

Sometimes  this  method,  this  exercise  of  the  will,  is 
slow  in  bearing  fruit.  Success  comes  slowly,  and  despair 
may  come  instead  of  success,  because  the 

ambition  is  greater  than  the  voice,  or  the    This  Method 
.     ,    .  , ,  ,.  may  be  Slow  in 

oratorical  temperament,  or  the  sense   of  Bearmg  Fruit 

rhetoric,  or  the  ear  for  elocution,  or,  per- 
haps, if  the  wretched  hero  had  only  held  out  a  little 
longer  his  ambition  would  have  been  gratified. 

Sir  James  Graham  exclaimed  after  repeated  failures  : 
"  I  have  tried  it  every  way — extempore,  committing  to 
memory,  speaking  from  notes — and  I  cannot  do  it.  I 
don't  know  why  it  is,  but  1  am  afraid  I  shall  never  sue 
ceed."  But  he  did  succeed.  By  sheer  perseverance  ii. 
the  use  of  his  will  he  overcame  his  lack  of  qualification 
for  public  speaking,  and  became  a  speaker  of  great 


76  BEFORE  AN  AUDIENCE. 

repute  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Lacordaire,  French- 
man though  he  was,  was  so  deficient  in  the  Frenchman's 
adaptation  to  the  rostrum  that  he  failed  utterly  in  several 
attempts,  and  everybody  said  :  ' '  He  is  a  man  of  talent, 
but  he  will  never  be  a  preacher."  Two  years  after  he 
was  entrancing  thousands  in  the  Notre  Dame  Cathedral, 
and  was  compared  with  Massillon  and  Bossuet.  It  was 
a  triumph,  not  of  elocution  lessons,  or  practice  in  gestic- 
ulation and  emphasis,  but  of  the  will,  and  the  judgment, 
and  self-reliance. 


VI. 

THE  DRAMATIC  ELEMENT  IN  PUBLIC 
SPEAKING. 

IT  is  a  mischievous  assumption  of  the  elocutionists 
that  the  art  of  the  actor  and  the  art  of  the  speaker  are 
one  and  the  same  art,  and  are  to  be  taught  in  the  same 
way,  and  governed  by  the  same  fixed  rules.  Preachers 
will  join  in  the  odious  comparison  designed  to  exalt  the 
seriousness  and  earnestness,  not  to  say  reverence  and 
piety,  of  the  dramatic  profession  at  the  expense  of  their 
own.  .Anecdotes  are  artfully  contrived  to  set  off  the 
extraordinary  fidelity  of  the  actor  and  the  reprehensible 
unfaithfulness  of  the  preacher,  and  are  served  up  with 
much  gusto  by  the  preacher  !  One  of  them  runs  thus  : 

Preacher  to  actor  :  "  How  is  it  that  you 

who  deal  in  fiction  have  more  effect  upon        _      acious 

•,-,•>'  ,    „,,         Anecdote 

an  audience  than  we  who  deal  in  truth  I"  Made  to  Order. 

Actor  to  preacher  :  "  Because  we  speak 
fiction  as  if  it  were  truth,  and  you  speak  truth  as  if  it 
were  fiction." 

Antithetical  sparkle  and  transparent  twaddle.  The 
anecdote  factory  revels  in  antithesis.  What  endowments 
in  the  way  of  witticism  and  criticism  we  confer  upon  our 
man  of  straw  !  When  the  young  missionary  had  related 
his  imaginary  controversy  with  a  pagan,  showing  how  he 
would  overwhelm  the  pagan,  the  aged  bishop  remarked  : 
"  You  should  choose  a  cleverer  pagan,  my  son  !"  If  a 
preacher  really  did  ask  this  question  of  an  actor  he  made 


78  BEFOBE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

an  ass  of  himself,  as  doth  every  preacher  who  goes  hat 
in  hand  to  an  actor  to  beg  an  anecdote  designed  to  ele- 
vate the  actor's  art  at  the  expense  of  his  own.  I  will  ask 
you  a  stupid  question,  O  tragedian  !  and  you  shall  giv? 
me  a  stingingly  antithetical  reply,  and  I  will  demean 
myself  by  circulating  your  reply  for  the  mortification  of 
the  clergy.  So  does  the  preacher  deliberately  join  hands 
with  the  gesticulationists  and  tragedians  in  sneering  at 
his  own  sincerity  and  covering  his  own  motives  with  con- 
tempt. 

Even  the  antithesis  is  at  fault.  Fiction  and  fact  are 
more  accurately  antithetical  than  fiction  and  truth,  since 
a  fiction  may  be  to  all  intents  and  purposes  the  truth. 
The  parables  of  the  New  Testament,  for  example,  are 
both  fictitious  and  truthful.  They  are  not  a  narrative 
of  facts,  but  are  faithful  to  life,  nevertheless,  as  all 
fictitious  creations  designed  to  teach  morality  or  religion 
should  be. 

To  say  that  the  actor  speaks  fiction  as  if  it  were  truth, 
is  to  say  that  he  tells  a  lie  so  successfully  that  the  audi- 
ence receive  it  as  the  truth,  which  is  preposterous.  And 
to  say  that  the  preacher  speaks  truth  as  if  it  were  fiction 
must  mean,  if  it  means  anything,  that  he  tells  the  truth 
in  such  a  way  as  to  compel  the  audience  to  regard  it 
as  falsehood,  which  is  also  preposterous.  There  are 
preachers,  perhaps,  who  dispense  one  set  of  doctrines 
from  the  pulpit,  and  quite  another  set  of  doctrines  from 
their  study-chair.  But  these  preachers  are  not  alluded 
to  in  this  anecdote.  Then  as  to  the  "  effect  upon  the 
audience" — would  you  compare  the  effect  produced  by, 
say,  the  most  effective  preaching,  with  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  the  most  effective  acting  ?  What  similarity  is 
there  between  your  state  of  mind  in  looking  upon  the 
representation  of  "  Hamlet"  or  the  "  American  Cousin," 


THE   DKAMATIC   ELEMENT  IN   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.       79 

and  your  state  of  mind  while  listening  to  a  sermon  on 
the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  ? 

Another  preacher  asks  an  actor  (Garrick  he  is  called  in 
this  anecdote)  how  a  sermon  ought  to  be 
delivered,  and  the  actor  replies:  "  You  An  Actor  Tells 

know  how  you  would  feel  and  speak  in  a  T,a  Preacher 
,  .  f  •       i        i       How  a  Sermon 

drawing-room   concerning   a  mend   who        is  to  ^e 

was  in  imminent  danger  of  his  life,  and  Delivered, 
with  what  energetic  pathos  of  diction  and 
countenance  you  would  enforce  the  observance  of  what 
you  really  thought  would  be  for  his  preservation.  You 
would  be  yourself,  and  the  interesting  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject impressing  your  heart  would  furnish  you  with  the 
most  natural  tone  of  voice,  the  most  proper  language, 
the  most  engaging  features,  and  the  most  suitable  and 
graceful  gestures.  What  you  would  be  in  the  drawing- 
room  be  in  the  pulpit,  and  you  will  not  fail  to  please,  to 
affect,  and  to  profit." 

Now,  do  you  know  exactly  how  you  would  feel  and 
speak  in  a  drawing-room  concerning  a  friend  who  was  in 
imminent  danger  of  his  life  ?  Dickens's  description  of 
what  was  felt  and  said  and  done  at  the  inn,  where  and 
when  little  Nell  was  in  imminent  danger  of  her  life,  is 
no  caricature.  The  fact  is,  that  under  the  circumstances 
imagined  you  are  about  as  likely  to  do  the  wrong  thing 
as  the  right  thing,  or  you  might  do  the  right  thing  in 
the  wrong  way,  and  in  the  midst  of  your  "energetic 
pathos"  tumble  over  the  piano-stool,  and  break  your  own 
neck,  if  not  that  of  your  friend  as  well.  It  is  perfectly 
natural  for  some  people  to  lose  their  heads  just  when 
their  heads  are  most  needed.  The  "  interesting  nature" 
of  the  fact  that  a  friend  had  fallen  headlong  in  a  fit, 
might  furnish  you  with  the  most  natural  tone  of  voice  in 
the  way  of  a  shriek,  and  the  most  naturally  absurd 


80  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

behavior.  You  might  very  naturally,  considering  your 
absorbing  interest  in  your  friend's  peril,  hand  your 
friend  the  inkstand  instead  of  the  hartshorn-vial  to 
smell.  When  the  babe  swallowed  the  marble,  the  father 
swooned  away,  but  the  mother  up-ended  the  infant, 
squeezed  the  marble  out  of  him,  and  then  restored  her 
"  natural  protector"  by  the  "  most  suitable  and  graceful 
gestures,"  such  as  pulling  his  nose  and  boxing  his  ears. 
It  is  so  difficult  to  tell  exactly  what  we  would  do  if  a 
friend  should  tumble  down  at  the  party,  that  it  does  not 
help  us  much  to  be  instructed  to  do  the  same  when  we 
discourse  from  the  pulpit.  Many  a  person  who  thought 
he  would  know  exactly  what  to  do  if  he  should  see 
another  person  drowning  was,  when  the  exigency  came, 
as  successfully  useless  as  any  of  the  rest  of  the  spectators, 
who  excelled  in  nothing  but  the  "  energetic  pathos  of 
diction  and  countenance."  1  speak  from  experience. 
I  saw  about  five  hundred  people  spin  round  on  their 
axis  once  while  a  man  was  in  imminent  danger  of  his 
life  from  drowning,  and  I  spun  round  with  the  same 
"  natural  tone  of  voice"  and  the  same  "  energetic  pathos 
of  diction  and  countenance." 

1  venture  to  say  that  if  Garrick's  instructions  had 
been  followed  by  his  preacher,  Garrick  would  have  been 
the  first  to  leave  the  house  in  disgust.  He  would  ask  : 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  parson  ?  Is  he  mad  ?" 
And  I  would  reply  :  "No,  those  are  the  engaging  feat- 
ures and  graceful  gestures  and  natural  tones  of  voice 
which  he  used  in  the  drawing-room  while  fetching  the 
hartshorn  for  a  friend  who  had  fainted  from  a  lack  of 
ventilation,  and  was  consequently  in  imminent  danger  of 
his  life."  To  see  the  absurdity  of  this  advice  to  the 
preachers  we  have  only  to  ask  :  Should  a  preacher 
behave  in  the  pulpit  as  though  he  were  rescuing  a  man 


THE   DBAMATIC    ELEMENT  IN   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.       81 

from  drowning,  or  nursing  him  out  of  a  fainting  fit  ? 
If  ever  the  occasion  for  such  behavior  should  arise,  it 
would  be  an  occasion  similar  to  that  which  is  perpetual 
on  the  boards  of  a  theatre.  What  is  occasional  with  the 
speaker  is  perpetual  with  the  actor. 

I  suspect  that  something  of  the  nature  of  theatrical 
earnestness  is  running  in  the  heads  of  these  anecdotes, 
and  the  suspicion  is  confirmed  by  the  next  anecdote  by 
which  I  will  illustrate  our  topic. 

The  bishop  to  the  actor,  who  in  this  instance  is  Better- 
ton  :  "  What  is  the  reason  that  whole  audiences  should 
be  moved  to  tears,  and  have  all  sorts  of 

passions  excited,  at  the  representation  of     _    ea  f10* 

r  Earnestness, 

some  story  on  the  stage,  which  they  knew 

to  be  feigned,  and  in  the  event  of  which  they  were  not 
at  all  concerned  ;  yet  that  the  same  persons  should  sit 
so  utterly  unmoved  at  discourses  from  the  pulpit,  upon 
subjects  of  the  utmost  importance  to  them,  relative  not 
only  to  their  temporal,  but  also  their  eternal  interests  ?" 
The  actor  to  the  bishop  :  "  My  lord,  it  is  because  we 
are  in  earnest."  What  are  we  to  think  of  the  self- 
respect  of  a  bishop  who  makes  so  humiliating  a  confes- 
sion to  an  actor,  and  gives  the  actor  so  excellent  an 
opportunity  to  make  that  humiliation  worse  ?  My  lord, 
it  is  because  we  actors  are  in  earnest  and  you  preachers 
are  fooling  !  Was  the  bishop  warranted  in  judging  all 
"discourses  from  the  pulpit"  by  his  own?  Would 
Whitefield  or  Lacordaire  be  likely  to  put  such  a  question 
to  Betterton  ?  Was  not  Garrick  far  more  likely  to  put 
the  question  reversed  to  Whitefield  ?  Besides,  was  the 
bishop's  "  unmoved"  audience  "the  same  persons" 
who  were  "moved  to  tears"  by  Betterton's  "earnest- 
ness" ?  Again,  does  it  never  occur  to  this  bishop  or  any 
other  of  these  reverend  fathers  and  brethren  who  revel 


82  BEFORE    AN   AUDIENCE. 

in  these  anecdotes,  to  their  own  disgrace,  that,  according 
to  their  own  confession  and  profession,  they  are  not  in 
the  business,  and  that  the  actors  are  in  the  business  of 
"  exciting  all  sorts  of  passions  by  the  representation  of 
some  story  which  they  know  to  be  feigned,  and  in  the 
event  of  which  they  are  not  at  all  concerned  "  ?  Does  it 
never  occur  to  them  that  it  is  very  much  easier  to  make 
a  man  cry  over  a  feigned  story,  or  even  a  real  one,  than 
it  is  to  make  him  abandon  the  very  sins  over  which  he  is 
boo-hooing  in  the  story  ?  Betterton  mignt  have  moved 
David  to  tears  with  the  feigned  story  of  the  ewe  lamb 
without  compelling  him  to  do  what  the  prophet's  preach- 
ing did — restore  the  lamb  and  quit  wife-stealing.  Better 
Nathan's  method  without  tears  than  Betterton's  with. 
The  actor  does  not  profess  to  save  men  from  sin,  or 
women  from  men. 

"  Because  we  are  in  earnest."  What  are  you  in  ear- 
nest about  ?  The  representation  of  "  feigned  stories' '  to 
11  excite  all  sorts  of  passions,"  and  move  the  nervous 
system  to  tears.  This  is  theatrical  earnestness,  and  is, 
as  I  have  already  insisted,  an  example  to  the  preacher  in 
so  far  as  it  means  physical  earnestness  and  self-reliance, 
in  so  far  as  it  is  compelling  yourself  to  come  to  time, 
and  compelling  yourself  to  make  the  most  of  yourself 
when  you  stand  before  an  audience.  But  to  suppose 
that  the  preacher  must  necessarily  be  theatrical  or 
dramatic  in  manner  or  delivery  in  order  to  insure  the 
success  of  his  "  discourses  from  the  pulpit  upon  subjects 
of  the  highest  importance,"  is  another  of  the  flagrant 
errors  that  come  of  confounding  the  art  of  the  actor  with 
the  art  of  the  speaker.  Some  of  the  most  effective 
speaking  has  been  done  by  speakers  who  stuck  to  the 
colloquial  element  in  both  the  manner  and  the  matter  of 
their  discourses,  whether  scientific  lectures,  regulation 


THE   DBAMA.TIC   ELEMENT  IN   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.       83 

sermons,  or  reformatory  speeches.  They  were  and  are 
in  earnest,  physically,  mentally,  and  morally,  but  not 
theatrically  or  histrionically  in  earnest.  President 
Finney,  one  of  the  best  reasoners  the  pulpit  of  this 
country  has  ever  known,  spoke  uniformly  in  a  conver- 
sational style,  but  he  was  in  earnest,  oppressively  so 
sometimes.  Never  was  there  a  more  self-reliant  speaker, 
or  one  that  had  a  more  complete  control  of  himself,  or 
who  knew  better  what  he  and  his  audience  were  about. 
His  elocution  was  in  keeping  with  his  argumentative 
style.  The  dramatic  element  would  have  been  ridicu- 
lously out  of  keeping  with  it. 

Demosthenes  is  quoted  to  justify  this       A  Letter 
confounding  of  the  art  of  the  actor  and     from  c*rWe 

on  whs,! 
the  art  of  the  speaker.     The  quotation  is    Demosthenes 

as  illustrious  as  it  is  fallacious.     He  gave  Said. 

as  the  three  requisites  for  oratory,  action 
— action — action.      I   asked   Thomas   Carlyle   what  he 
thought  of  this,  and  he  gave  me  the  following  reply, 
which  is  now  publisher,  for  the  first  time  : 

"  According  ta  Demosthenes,  as  all  the  world  knows, 
the  thrice  first  requisite  for  eloquence  is  action.  Not  till 
lately  did  I  ever  ask  myself  what  strictly  did  he  mean  by 
action  ?  Is  it  swinging  of  the  arms,  attitude,  gesticu- 
lation, and  the  like  ?  What  especially  is  the  Greek  word 
he  uses  ?  After  search  I  at  last  discovered  that  it  was 
upockrisis,  play-acting,  hypocrisy,  persuading  everybody 
that  you  are  speaking  from  the  heart.  In  which  opinion 
I  thoroughly  agreed  with  Demosthenes,  so  far  as  Demos- 
thenes went.  But  at  once  there  rose  within  me  this 
second  much  more  important  question  :  Why  in  the 
name  of  all  the  gods,  when  a  wretched  creature  is  speak- 
ing, not  from  the  heart,  but  only,  with  great  art  or  little, 
pretending  to  do  it,  why  do  not  other  human  creatures 


84  BEFORE   AN    AUDIENCE. 

rise  upon  him  with  horror  and  terror,  and  the  peremp- 
tory order,  scandalous,  mendacious  phantasm,  pretend- 
ing to  be  human  and  real,  cease  !  Under  pain  of  whip- 
ping, and  at  length  hanging,  no  more  of  that.  To  me 
privately  the  stump  orator  is  a  quite  alarming  phenom- 
enon, though,  alas  !  1  know  him  to  be  for  long  times  yet 
an  inevitable  one.  May  he  become  extinct  one  day,  as 
the  Dodo  has  done. ' '  The  stump  orator  has  just  run 
his  course  in  Great  Britain  again,  and  the  more  of  bun- 
comb  and  striving  after  wind  he  perpetrated,  the  more 
nearly  he  followed  the  stump  oratory  of  the  author  of 
"  Fighting  Niagara."  But  1  never  think  of  thee  with- 
out admiration  and  a  big  thrill,  glorious  old  stump 
orator,  "  stumbling  blindly,  undismayed,  down  to  thy 
rest." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  meaning  of  Demos- 
thenes, although  the  elocution  books  have  substituted 
the  Latin  translation  for  it,  and  call  it  action.  Demos- 
thenes said  and  meant  acting — acting — acting.  He 
meant  precisely  what  we  would  mean  if  we  should  say  : 
The  three  requisites  for  public  spe  iking  are  *.  Be 
dramatic — be  dramatic — be  dramitic.  Or  as  though 
we  should  say  :  Be  histrionic  ;  or,  behave  in  the  pulpit, 
and  on  the  rostrum,  exactly  as  the  actors  behave  on  the 
stage. 

Demosthenes'  advice  is  as  easy  of  explanation  as  its 
fallacy  is  of  refutation.  The  orators  of  his  day  looked 
to  the  stage  for  their  examples.  "With  them,  the  object 
of  public  speaking  was  very  similar  to  that  of  public  act- 
ing— a  means  for  making  a  temporary  impression,  or  for 
rousing  to  immediate  and  precipitate  action.  Not  to 
dwell  upon  this  point,  which  could  be  made  exceedingly 
interesting  and  instructive,  suffice  it  to  say  here  that  the 
public  speaking  to  which  Demosthenes  refers  in  this 


THE    DRAMATIC    ELEMENT   IN"   PUBLIC    SPEAKING.        85 

triple  requisite  is  what  we  call  dramatic  oratory  proper, 
or  the  oratorical  element  so  expanded  as  to  exclude  all 
other  elements. 

This  may  be  very  properly  done  by  some  speakers — 
Gough,  for  instance — and  on  some  occasions,  but  that  it 
comprises  the  whole  of  public  speaking  as  we  under- 
stand and  practise  that  art  is  obviously  inadmissible. 
Nine  tenths  of  our  speaking  is  necessarily  colloquial,  as  I 
have  before  remarked.  It  is  didactic,  it  is  teaching,  it 
is  conveying  information.  Even  where  it  is  controver- 
sial, as  in  a  deliberative  body,  it  may  be  more  effective 
to  be  colloquial  than  dramatic  or  oratorical.  Even  in 
Demosthenes'  day  teaching  was  done  by  lecturing,  and 
lecturing  was  done  on  a  conversational  key.  He  would 
probably  not  call  that  the  art  of  ruling  the  minds  of 
men  by  rhetoric,  or  public  speaking.  But  we  do. 
What  he  had  in  mind  was  dramatic  oratory,  the  dramatic 
element  in  public  speaking,  the  art  of  the  actor  utilized 
as  an  element  in  the  art  of  the  speaker.  They  are 
kindred  arts,  but  not  the  same  art.  No  one  person  ever 
excelled  in  both.  The  history  of  public  speaking  is  full 
of  illustrations  of  how  much  the  art  of  the  speaker  ie 
indebted  to  the  art  of  the  actor.  Nevertheless,  they  are 
very  far  apart  in  their  method  and  object. 

During  the  Middle  Ages  the  people  were       Historical 

dependent'  exclusively  upon  the  drama  for    ExaJ|"PIes  °f 
.  v  .     i          1-1  £    .1       i  -  ,.  £    .,        the  Dramatic 

their   knowledge   of   the   history   of   the        Element 

Christian  religion.     "  Cloister  and  church 
were  the  first  theatres,  priests  the  first  actors  ;  the  first 
dramatic  matter  was  the  Passion,  and  the  first  drama  the 
mysteries  of  the  church. " 

The  natural  manner  of  Bossuet  and  Bourdaloue  was 
impressive  in  the  highest  degree,  while  that  of  Massillon 
waa  quiet  and  uniform,  but  his  pathos  was  dramatic. 


86  BEFORE   AN    AUDIENCE. 

On  the  margin  of  a  sermon  delivered  at  Bruges  in  1500, 
the  preacher  reminds  himself  that  here  he  is  to  "  shriek 
like  the  devil,"  and  of  Father  Honore,  a  long  while 
after,  it  was  said  :  "  He  distracts  the  ear,  but  he  rends 
the  heart. " 

Savonarola  literally  fulfilled  the  popular  requirement 
and  was  "  carried  away  by  his  subject,"  for  he  ran  out 
of  the  pulpit,  but  only  to  produce  a  paroxysm  of  relig- 
ious fanaticism,  which  was  succeeded  by  a  return  of 
the  old  levity,  and  vice.  The  fact  that  Dante's  works 
were  in  the  pile  of  immoral  literature  that  was  burned 
before  him  proves  how  utterly  untrustworthy  are  the 
effects  produced  by  earnestness  in  the  popular  sense  of 
that  word.  The  gamblers  at  Nuremberg  burning  their 
dice  in  the  streets  under  the  spell  of  dramatic  earnestness 
exercised  by  the  Franciscan  missionaries  is  another 
example.  Others  might  be  noted  as  the  result  of  the 
preaching  of  Bernardine  and  of  Friar  Richard  of  Paris. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  "  the  golden  age"  of  the 
French  pulpit  was  what  is  popularly  understood  as  an 
age  of  earnestness  in  the  pulpit.  It  was  dramatic  ear- 
nestness, physical  earnestness,  and  had  no  more  perma- 
nent effect  upon  the  vices  of  society  than  the  undemon- 
strative sermons  of  the  preceding  age.  Kings  and  their 
mistresses  listened  with  equal  unconcern  to  the  theat- 
rical anathemas  of  the  pulpit.  Louis  said  they  "  made 
him  feel  uncomfortable,  but  not  long."  Indeed,  the 
toleration  of  the  clergy  was  owing  to  their  ineffective- 
ness, whether  they  spoke  with  Massillon's  persuasive  elo- 
quence or  Bossuet's  impressive  gestures. 

Edward  Irving's  almost  violence  of  manner  and  elocu- 
tion was  saved  from  intolerable  rant  by  the  skill  with 
which  he  used  the  dramatic  element  with  which  he  was 
largely  endowed  by  nature,  and  which  he  cultivated  aa- 


THE   DRAMATIC   ELEMENT   IN   PUBLIC    SPEAKING.        87 

siduously.  His  influence  was  evanescent  from  the  un- 
sanity  of  his  teachings.  They  rejoiced  for  a  time  in  the 
light  of  a  meteor. 

Erskine  carried  the  dramatic  element  to  as  high  a  pitch 
at  the  baf  as  Irving  did  in  the  pulpit.  Lord  Abinger 
says  of  him  : 

"  To  his  parts  as  an  orator  he  added  those  of  a  con- 
summate actor.  His  eye,  his  countenance,  the  action  of 
his  limbs  and  body,  were  full  of  expression,  elegance, 
and  dignity.  ...  I  am  satisfied  that  if  one  who  had  not 
understood  the  language  had  merely  seen  his  action  and 
heard  the  various  tones  and  modulation  of  his  voice,  he 
could  not  but  have  experienced  considerable  pleasure  and 
excitement  from  the  exhibition." 

I  can  never  forget  the  imposing  manner  and  dramatic 
action  of  Bishop  Mermillod  of  Geneva,  or  Strossmayer 
of  Hungary,  or  Gatry  of  the  Madeleine  at  Paris.  I 
heard  the  great  southern  preachers  of  the  (Ecumenical 
Council,  or,  rather,  so  vast  was  the  audience,  and  so 
foreign  was  the  language  of  the  preachers,  and  so  bad 
were  the  acoustic  properties  of  Michael  Angelo's  archi- 
tecture, that  I  could  only  see  the  great  preachers  ;  but 
they  were  so  dramatic  and  pantomimic  that  one  could 
not  fail  to  be  impressed. 

"Whitefield  came  nearer  to  the  Demosthenic  standard 
than  is  possible  with  many  speakers  of  our 
Western  race.     He  utilized  the  histrionic     Whitefield's 
art  in  public  speaking  beyond  any  other       Dramatic 
preacher   of   his   age   and   tongue.     The       Element, 
actors  heard  him  with  envy.     Garrick  was 
jealous  of  the  skill  and  grace  with  which  he  handled  his 
handkerchief.     His   manners,  it   is  said,  captivated   the 
fastidious  Chesterfield,  he  extorted  admiration  from  the 
philosophical    Bolingbroke,    and    the    elegant    sceptic, 


88  BEFORE   AN"   AUDIENCE. 

David  Hume,  went  great  distances  to  bear  doctrines  that 
he  detested  delivered  in  a  style  that  fascinated  him. 

Whitefield's  studious  and  painstaking  devotion  to  the 
three  great  requisites  was  evident  in  his  preference  for 
revised- over  new  sermons.  They  were  improved  in 
delivery  by  delivery,  and  he  knew  well  how  to  improve 
them.  Benjamin  Franklin  said  his  delivery  was  so 
improved  by  frequent  repetition,  and  every  emphasis 
and  modulation  became  so  perfectly  timed,  that  without 
being  interested  in  the  subject  one  could  not  help  being 
pleased  with  the  discourse — a  pleasure  of  much  the  same 
kind  as  that  received  from  an  excellent  piece  of  music. 
Garrick  and  Foote  agreed  that  Whitefield's  oratory 
"  was  not  at  its  full  height  until  he  had  repeated  a  dis- 
course forty  times." 

When  White  field  acted  an  old  blind  man  advancing 
by  slow  steps  toward  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  Lord 
Chesterfield  started  up  and  cried  :  "  Good  God,  he  is 
gone  !"  And  when  the  seamen  heard  and  saw  his  de- 
scription of  the  ship  on  her  beam-ends,  they  sprang  to 
their  feet  and  shouted  :  "  The  long-boat — take  to  the 
long-boat  !"  This  scene  is  worth  reproducing. 

Suddenly  assuming  a  nautical  air  and  manner  that 
were  irresistible,  he  thus  suddenly  broke  in  with  : 
' '  Well,  my  boys,  we  have  a  clear  sky,  and  are  making 
fine  headway  over  a  smooth  sea  before  a  light  breeze, 
and  we  shall  soon  lose  sight  of  land.  But  what  means 
this  sudden  lowering  of  the  heavens,  and  that  dark  cloud 
arising  from  beneath  t  the  western  horizon  ?  Hark  ! 
Don't  you  hear  distant  thunder  ?  Don't  you  see  those 
flashes  of  lightning  ?  There  is  a  storm  gathering  ! 
Every  man  to  his  duty  !  How  the  waves  rise  and  dash 
against  the  ship  !  The  air  is  dark  ! — the  tempest  rages  ! 
— our  masts  are  gone  ! — the  ship  is  on  her  beam -ends  ! 


THE    DRAMATIC    ELEMENT   IN   PUBLIC    SPEAKING.        89 

What  next  ?"  This  appeal  instantly  brought  the  sailors 
to  their  feet,  with  a  shout  :  "  The  long-boat  ! — take  to 
the  long-boat  !" 

And  yet  here  comes  a  leading  London  newspaper  ask- 
ing :  "Wherein  lies  the  secret  of  Whitefield's  power  ? 
What  was  the  spell  by  which  he  not  only  enthralled  the 
multitude,  but  also  men  of  clear  judgments  and  capacious 
intellects  and  cold  hearts  ?  When  we  read  Whitefield's 
sermons  we  find  nothing  in  them  that  explains  this 
mystery.  He  was  not  a  theologian  ;  he  was  not  a 
thinker  ;  he  had  no  high  poetical  imagination  ;  his  dic- 
tion is  commonplace  ;  his  imagery  conventional  ;  his 
range  of  illustration  limited  ;  and  it  is  remarkable  that 
he  has  left  nothing  in  literature,  not  even  in  devotional 
literature,  by  which  he  deserves  to  be  remembered — not 
a  single  treatise,  not  a  hymn,  not  a  page  of  a  discourse. 
Face  to  face  with  men  he  did  with  them  almost  what  he 
chose,  but  he  had  no  skill  to  sway  them  by  written 
words." 

Here  is  a  reasonably  intelligent  fellow-creature  who, 
mayhap,  makes  his  living  out  of  the  English  language, 
and  yet  does  not  know  enough  about  it  to  know  that 
public  speaking  is  one  method  of  using  it,  and  the  most 
effective  one.  He  recognizes  acting,  and  writing,  and 
thinking  as  accredited  departments  of  human  endeavor, 
but  the  department  and  art  of  ruling  the  minds  of  men 
by  an  animal  galvanic  battery  on  two  legs — that  is  a 
secret  to  him  ! 

Still,  Whitefield  was  far  from  being  an  actor  in  the 
full  and  strict  sense,  and  would  certainly  have  failed  in 
that  profession,  notwithstanding  what  Stephen  says,  that 
"  he  cultivated  the  histrionic  art  to  a  perfection  which 
has  rarely  been  obtained  even  by  the  most  eminent  of 
those  who  have  trodden  the  stage  in  sock  and  buskin. " 


90  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

But  he  would  have  found  the  sock  and  buskin  very 
different  harness  from  the  pulpit  gown.  The  rules  of 
the  actor  are  as  minute  as  the  deviation  from  them  is 
serious.  Cicero  notes  how  much  easier  the  critics  were 
with  the  orators  than  they  were  with  the  actors,  and 
Lucian  called  a  blundering  gesture  on  the  stage  a 
grave  offence.  A  blundering  gesture  on  the  platform  is 
sometimes  inseparable  from  the  most  effective  speaking. 

No,  with  all  his  use  of  the  histrionic  element  White- 
field  was  exclusively  a  public  speaker,  and  is  worthy  of 
study  with  special  reference  to  that  point.  He  was  self- 
reliant  for  his  mesmeric  and  dramatic  power  just  as  the 
actor  is,  however.  He  made  use  of  his  will,  he  made 
the  most  of  himself  as  an  animal  galvanic  battery  on  two 
legs. 

It  is  a  common  opinion  that  the  dramatic  element  is 
more  popular  with  an  Oriental  or  Southern  race  than 
it  is  with  ours.  I  doubt  it.  Running  after  Whitefield 
and  his  school,  even  after  some  very  poor  specimens  of 
the  school,  disproves  it.  It  is  more  a  matter  of  fashion 
than  of  race  or  clime.  Civilization  casts  off  in  one  age 
what  it  takes  on  in  another,  whether  it  is  inebriety  in 
society  or  the  dramatic  element  in  oratory.  Another 
Father  Honore  may  put  on  a  magistrate's  cap  and  hold 
up  the  skull  of  a  magistrate  in  the  pulpit  any  Sunday, 
and  exclaim  with  as  much  appropriateness  as  he  of  old  : 
"  Hast  thou  never  sold  justice  ?"  Fashions,  like  tem- 
perature and  diseases,  go  in  waves.  Public  taste  has  its 
ebbs  and  flows.  Witness  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  gown. 

The  restoration  of  the  gown  by  the  descendants  of  the 

Puritans,  and  the  partiality  of  the  young 

an  ^Accessory    Qua^ers  f or  ^e  vestments  of  the  ' '  ancient 

order,"  are  signs  of  life  in  the  dramatic 

element.    The  gown,  whether  on  the  bench  or  at  the  bar, 


THE    DRAMATIC    ELEMENT   IN    PUBLIC    SPEAKING.        91 

whether  in  the  pulpit  or  in  the  university  lecture-room, 
is  an  auxiliary  of  so  much  importance  that  it  is  sure  to 
survive  the  ignorance  and  fanaticism  that  lays  it  aside. 
Costume,  as  well  as  clouds,  is  controlled  by  law.  To 
any  that  are  influenced  by  the  absurd  idea  that  the  gown 
means  any  form  of  religion  I  recommend  a  perusal  of 
Dean  Stanley's  "  Christian  Institutions." 

The  gown's  justification  is  in  its  usefulness.  Besides 
being  a  useful  insignia  for  the  teacher  and  preacher, 
lawyer  and  judge,  it  is  a  physical  accessory  of  positive 
importance.  It  conceals  the  defects  of  the  physique. 
It  fills  out  a  thin  man,  thins  out  a  fat  one3  lowers  a  tall 
man,  heightens  a  short  one,  conceals  awkwardness, 
promotes  gracefulness  in  gesture  and  attitude,  and  withal 
has  a  friendly,  warm,  and  genial  look.  Mark  the  in- 
congruity between  the  drapery  of  the  ladies  at  a  fashion- 
able wedding  in  an  architectural  church,  and  the  impov- 
erished and  emaciated  black  outline  of  a  hitching-post  of 
an  officiating  minister.  And  to  make  the  contrast  com- 
plete and  completely  absurd,  he  wears  a  swallow-tail  coat ! 

Now,  this  dramatic  element  in  public  speaking  seems 
to  be  the  only  element  which  the  elocu- 
tionists recognize,   whereas   it  is  neither  The  Colloquial 

Element 
the  only  nor  the  most  important  element,     wears  Best 

The  colloquial  is  more  important,    more 

in  use,  more  to  be  depended  upon  in  the  long  run. 

The  dramatic  element,  however,  is  indispensable  to 
some,  useful  to  all.  It  may  come  of  genius,  but  it  may 
be  cultivated — and  should  be.  It  can  be  cultivated  by 
the  cultivation  of  the  elocutionary  instinct,  the  rhetorical 
instinct,  the  dramatic  instinct,  by  the  training  of  the  ear 
for  rhetoric  and  the  eye  for  rhetorical  and  dramatic 
effects.  Imitation  helps,  and  observation  plays  its  part, 
but  if  the  art  of  the  actors  and  the  art  of  the  speakers 


92  BEFORE   AN  AUDIENCE. 

are  confounded,  and  you  undertake  to  acquire  one  by 
acquiring  the  other,  you  will  acquire  neither.  The  actor 
' '  renders' '  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  preacher  prays  it. 
The  former  may  use  the  emphasis  of  his  teacher,  the 
latter  must  use  his  own.  Garrick  and  Whitefield  would 
both  fail  if  they  changed  places. 

There  is  one  objection  to  this  professional  elocutionary 
style,  whether  in  reading  or  speaking,  which  is  little 
spoken  of  or  thought  of,  and  that  is  this  :  it  is  wearying. 
A  little  of  it  now  and  then  is  pleasing,  but  it  does  not 
require  much  of  it  to  pall  upon  the  taste,  like  candy  and 
ice-cream.  It  may  do  as  occasional  confectionery,  but 
does  not  answer  for  a  perpetual  diet.  Public  speaking 
is  perpetual  diet.  The  play-goers  will  tolerate  only  so 
much  of  the  "  legitimate  drama,"  and  the  church-goers 
would  stay  at  home  even  more  than  they  do  if  the 
preachers  should  all  and  always  be  dramatic  and  em- 
phatic and  theatric.  Where  they  are  blunderers  at  it 
they  amuse,  where  they  are  excellent  at  it  they  weary. 
Even  Whitefield  and  Erskine,  with  all  their  skill,  would 
weary  out  the  audience  if  it  were  always  the  same  audi- 
ence. 

It  is  the  colloquial  element  that  wears  best,  whether 
on  the  platform,  in  the  pulpit,  at  the  bar,  or  on  the  floor 
of  a  deliberative  body. 

To  repeat,  so  as  to  prevent  misconception  or  confu- 
sion :  First,  the  self -excitation  or  physical  earnestness  of 
the  actor  is  just  as  desirable  and  valuable  to  the  speaker 
as  it  is  to  the  actor  ;  second,  the  dramatic  manner,  which 
is  inseparable  from  the  drama,  is  a  very  useful  auxiliary 
to  public  speaking  ;  but,  third,  when  and  by  whom  this 
dramatic  manner  is  to  be  used  is  to  be  left  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  speaker  ;  and,  fourth,  that  judgment  may 
be  trained  to  an  indefinite  extent. 


vn. 

THE  KHETOEIC  FOR  PUBLIC  SPEAKING. 

RHETORIC  was  at  first  composed  and  arranged  for 
public  speaking.  That,  indeed,  is  what  the  word  means, 
and  even  so  recent  an  authority  as  Webster  gives  as  one 
of  its  definitions  ' '  the  science  of  oratory. ' '  Plato,  to 
quote  him  again,  calls  it  "  the  art  of  ruling  the  minds  of 
men."  The  modern  speaker  was  the  ancient  rhetorician. 
The  essay  is  a  recent  form  of  composition.  The  rhetoric 
for  public  speaking  comprises  all  the  forms  into  which 
language  can  be  thrown — narrative,  didactic,  poetical, 
dramatic. 

The   rhetoric  of  the  higher  forms  of  oratory  has  a 
rhythm  and  cadence  of  its   own.     It  is 
%n  oratorical  undulation  that  comes  in  well    The  Rhetoric 
with  the    oratorical   temperament.     The       of  p.u 
best  speeches  are  only  speeches,  as  the  best      &  cadence 
essays  are  only  essays.     An  essay  may  be      Of  its  own. 
declaimed,  but  public  speaking  could  not 
long  endure  exclusively  in  the  form  of  the  essay  or  the 
narrative. 

Sheridan  was  offered  a  thousand  pounds  for  a  corrected 
copy  of  his  great  Begum  speech,  but  had  the  wisdom  to 
refuse,  although  Byron  pronounced  it  the  best  oration 
ever  delivered  in  England,  and  it  received  similar  en- 
comiums from  Wilberforce,  Fox,  Burke,  and  Pitt.  How 
many  practised  speakers  would  have  been  as  wise  1  How 
many  would  know,  and  act  upon  the  knowledge,  tha* 


94  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

the  very  extravagance  of  the  approval  was  evidence  that 
the  speech  was  only  a  speech,  and  that  its  effects  which 
drew  the  admiration  came  and  went  with  the  speech  ! 
When  the  "  public  request"  comes  for  the  sermon  to  be 
printed,  tell  it  to  call  again  in  six  months  and  you  will 
be  ready  for  it,  and  you  will  never  be  troubled  with  it 
again.  When  the  exhilaration  produced  by  the  sermon 
passes  off  the  request  for  it  at  ten  cents  a  copy  subsides. 
Few  sermons  endure  the  types.  Whitefield's  are  unen- 
durable. 

On  the  other  hand,  oratorical  rhetoric  of  the  highest 
order  is  imperishable,  even  in  the  case  of  such  an  orator 
as  Burke,  where  the  author  of  it  failed  in  the  delivery 
of  it.  The  u  dinner-bell  "  will  always  call  to  a  glorious 
repast  of  what  has  been  well  called  "  Poetry  and  Phi- 
losophy in  Oratoric  Form."  Macaulay  gave  us  history, 
biography,  and  criticism  in  oratorio  form,  although  he, 
too,  failed  in  speaking  the  speech  that  came  to  him  in 
oratoric  form.  Bolingbroke's  orations,  however,  were 
both  well  composed  and  well  delivered.  They  were 
prolonged  flights  of  imaginative  and  impassioned  diction, 
and  their  elocution  was  in  keeping  with  it. 

Gladstone's  diction,  too,  is  oratorical,  which,  as  Ma- 
caulay says,  "  set  off  by  the  graces  of  utterance  and  ges- 
ture, vibrate  on  the  ear."  He  is  the  public  speaker  in 
person,  as  well  as  in  rhetoric.  Fox's  fist  was  in  his  dic- 
tion as  well  as  his  gesture,  and  rightly  so.  He  said 
"  it  was  necessary  to  hammer  it  into  them."  And  it 
was,  for  him.  With  his  fist  and  his  repetitions  he  was 
far  more  effective  than  he  could  have  been  in  the  harness 
of  Bolingbroke  or  Chesterfield.  He  failed  in  elaborate 
and  painstaking  preparation.  Fronde's  style  and  tem- 
perament are  oratorical,  and  his  rhetoric  owes  its  fasci- 
nation to  that  fact,  Lecky  to  the  contrary  notwithstand- 


THE   RHETORIC   FOR   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  95 

ing,  who  condemns  it  because  it  "  quivers  with  passion" 
and  is  "  as  fierce  as  that  of  the  most  fiery  debater  in  Par- 
liament." But  there  is  no  objection  to  it,  seeing  that  it 
is  the  rhetoric  of  the  most  fiery  debater  out  of  Parlia- 
ment, which  he  has  a  perfect  right  to  be.  Let  the 
prophet  speak  as  he  is  inspired  to  speak,  and  give  us  the 
words  as  they  are  given  to  him. 

When  Canning  passed  away  a  magazine  writer  ex- 
claimed :  "  There  died  the  last  of  the  rhetoricians  !" 
But  since  his  death  there  have  arisen  a  galaxy  of  rhetori- 
cians that  have  done  more  to  make  the  English  language 
effective  with  a  popular  assembly  and  the  great  mass  of 
all  people  than  any  of  their  predecessors.  Science  never 
had  such  a  hearing,  never,  in  fact,  had  any  hearing 
worth  speaking  of  in  "  oratoric  form"  before  it  found 
utterance  in  the  rhetoric  of  Darwin,  Tyndale,  and 
Huxley.  The  diction  of  public  speaking  is  the  vehicle 
by  which  religion,  philosophy,  politics,  and  science  reach 
mankind.  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and  teach  it,  or 
rouse  it,  is  a  command  impossible  of  obedience  without 
the  one  supreme  art  of  all  arts — "  the  art  of  ruling  the 
minds  of  men"  by  public  speaking.  It  is  the  highest  of 
the  arts,  and  it  will  be  the  last  to  perish  from  the  earth. 

John  Bright  betrays  a  fastidiousness  of  rhetorical  taste 
by  not  only  the  rarity  of  his  addressee,  but  by  the  in- 
ternal evidence  of  painstaking  in  their  preparation. 
Daniel  Webster  showed  the  same  consciousness  and 
oratorical  pains.  It  is  curious  to  compare  the  report  of 
his  speech  in  reply  to  Hayne  as  it  is  declaimed  in  college 
and  the  original  report,  which  has  recently  been  made 
public.  The  euphonious  peroration  so  familiar  to  us  all 
can  be  seen  here  in  the  rough  as  it  was  delivered  in  the 
Senate. 

"  When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  for  the  last  time  on 


96  BEFORE    Atf   AUDIENCE. 

the  meridian  sun,  I  hope  1  may  see  him  shining  bright 
upon  my  united,  free,  and  happy  country.  I  hope  I 
shall  not  live  to  see  his  beams  falling  upon  the  dispersed 
fragments  of  the  structure  of  this  once-glorious  Union. 
I  hope  I  may  not  see  the  flag  of  my  country  with  its 
stars  separated  or  obliterated  ;  torn  by  commotions  ; 
smoking  with  the  blood  of  civil  war.  1  hope  I  may  not 
see  the  standard  raised  of  separate  States'  rights,  star 
against  star  and  stripe  against  stripe  ;  but  that  the  flag 
of  the  Union  may  keep  its  stars  and  stripes  corded  and 
bound  together  in  indissoluble  ties.  1  hope  I  shall  not 
see  written  as  its  motto,  first  liberty  and  then  Union.  I 
hope  I  shall  see  no  such  delusive  and  deluded  motto  on 
the  flag  of  that  country.  I  hope  to  see  spread  all  over  it, 
blazoned  in  letters  of  light  and  proudly  floating  over  land 
and  sea  that  other  sentiment,  dear  to  my  heart,  '  Union 
and  liberty,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable.'  ' 

A  speech  or  sermon  or  plea  is  like  a  large  picture 
painted  to  be  seen  at  a  distance  ;  it  will  not  bear  and  is 
not  expected  to  endure  microscopic  criticism.  It  is  to 
be  heard  in  the  mass  and  from  afar.  "What  would  be 
considered  blemishes  upon  close  inspection  are  indispen- 
sable qualities  when  heard,  as  they  are  designed  to  be 
heard,  at  the  right  distance. 

Rhetoric  is  not  a  science  to  be  learned  by  committing 
to  memory  a  lot  of  minute  rules  ;  it  is  an  art,  and  excel- 
lence in  it  is  to  be  attained  by  the  training 

Training  of     of  the  rhetorical  instinct— the  rhetorical 
the  Rhetorical    .    ,  ,  ,     ,          .        , 

Instinct         judgment,  the  sense  ot  rhetoric,  the  ear 

for  rhythm  and  euphony  and  idiom. 
This  is  what  needs  stimulation  and  cultivation  while  the 
student  is  passing  through  his  course  of  preparation  for 
a  public  life  which  will  depend  for  its  success  upon 
writing  or  public  speaking.  He  is  not  to  be  handed  a 


THE    RHETORIC    FOR    PUBLIC    SPEAKING.  97 

book  and  required  to  burden  his  memory  with  several 
pages  of  its  rules  ;  he  should  be  handed  a  pen  and  re- 
quired to  create  several  paragraphs  with  the  best  rhetor- 
ical judgment  he  can  bring  into  exercise,  or  he  should 
be  required  to  get  on  his  legs  and  put  into  a  speech  the 
best  language  his  ear  for  rhetorical  propriety  suggests. 

Teacher  and  pupil  work  together  on  the  pupils'  rhetor- 
ical instinct.  ' '  Practice  makes  perfect, ' '  but  perfection, 
or  even  progress,  will  come  very  slowly  if  the  practice 
does  not  take  hold  of  this  sense  of  rhetoric  or  faculty  for 
rhetoric.  From  the  very  start  the  ear,  or  sense,  or 
faculty  should  be  kept  in  lively  operation.  Every  essay, 
speech,  or  sermon  should  be  held  rigidly  accountable  to 
this  court  of  final  appeal,  from  whose  decisions  there  is 
no  appeal.  The  question  should  be  not  so  much,  "Why 
is  this  right  ?  but,  Is  it  right  ?  The  pupil  must  see  and 
feel  that  it  is  right,  instead  of  acquiescing  mechanically 
in  the  opinion  of  the  teacher  or  the  law  of  the  book 
upon  the  subject.  The  art  of  rhetoric  is  something 
drawn  out  from  within,  not  something  laid  on  from  with- 
out. A  science  asks  the  reason  why  a  thing  is  right  ; 
an  art  asks  only  :  Is  it  right  ?  In  mathematics  you  can 
tell  wherein  you  are  right  and  wherein  you  are  wrong. 
In  rhetoric  (as  in  painting)  you  cannot  always  and  need 
not  ever  know  why  you  are  wrong  or  right,  or  partly 
wrong  and  partly  right.  You  could  not  get  on  in 
geometry  if  you  should  depend  exclusively  upon  your 
mathematical  instinct  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  reason  why 
pupils  in  the  English  language  do  not  get  on  faster  and 
farther  is  because  they  do  not  depend  upon  their  rhetori- 
cal instinct,  but  content  themselves  with  committing  to 
memory  a  tangled  jungle  of  "  rules  and  exceptions,"  and 
then  adding  to  them  a  mass  of  rhetorical  "  principles'' 
and  sub-principles. 


98  BEFORE   AN  AUDIENCE. 

When  Haydn  was  criticised  for  modulations  as  con- 
trary to  the  principles  of  music,  he  replied  :  "I  have 
put  that  passage  there  because  it  does  well."  Said  the 
critic  :  "It  is  contrary  to  the  rules."  Haydn  rejoined  : 
"  But  it  is  the  pleasantest. "  Haydn's  musical  instinct 
was  better  than  his  critic's  musical  rules.  It  was  an 
educated  instinct  and  judgment,  however. 

"The  men  who  cannot  paint,"  said  William  Hunt, 
"  are  ready  with  admirable  reasons  for  everything  they 
have  done  ;"  but  when  he  was  asked  his  reason  for 
putting  on  a  certain  color,  he  replied  :  "I  don't  know  ; 
I  am  just  aiming  at  it."  The  artist  in  the  colors  of 
rhetoric  does  not  paint  according  to  rule,  he  aims. 

From  the  most  rudimentary  elements  of  grammar  to  the 
highest  attainments  in  rhetoric  the  only 

We  Learn  rational  and  effective  way  to  learn  how  to 
how  to  Use  uge  ianguage  is  to  use  it  and  use  it,  and 
Language  by 

Using  it        continue  to  use  it  with  the  best  rhetorical 

judgment  you  have  in  your  possession. 

As  the  child  does  not  need  to  know  why  his  sentence 
is  ungrammatical,  but  simply  needs  to  know  and  re- 
member that  it  is  ungrammatical,  so  the  most  accom- 
plished rhetorician  in  the  world  needs  nothing  more  to 
guide  him  than  his  educated  sense  of  rhetorical  propriety. 
The  rules  of  rhetoric  for  the  college  student  and  the  rule 
of  grammar  for  the  academy  pupil  are  equally  super- 
fluous and  embarrassing.  As,  for  example  : 

Rule  of  grammar  for  the  academy  pupil  :  "If  the 
subject  of  a  sentence  consists  of  two  nouns  or  pronouns 
united  by  the  conjunction  '  and,'  the  verb  must  be  put 
in  the  plural.  As  :  John  and  James  are  in  the  field." 

In  the  first  place,  how  many  boys  and  girls  on  the 
primary  benches  of  the  common  school  would  say  : 
"John  and  James  is  in  the  fiel^"  ?  In  the  second 


THE   RHETORIC    FOR   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  99 

place,  if  one  of  them  should  say  it,  would  it  not  be  far 
more  effective  for  the  teacher  or  parent  to  "  put  the 
verb  in  the  plural "  for  him  then  and  there  and  thence- 
forth, than  to  require  him  to  commit  the  rule  to  memory, 
leaving  his  practice  of  it  to  take  care  of  itself  ?  which  is 
uniformly  and  universally  done.  The  teacher  crams  the 
pupil  with  rules,  and  joins  the  pupil  in  disobeying  them. 
This  is  easily  explained.  It  is  an  easy  problem  in 
mental  philosophy.  Your  habitual  absorption  in  minute 
and  elaborate  rules  renders  you  indifferent  to  their  appli- 
cation. It  is  very  doubtful  whether  teaching  a  thing  is 
calculated  to  make  us  any  the  more  disposed  to  practise 
it.  Indeed,  I  should  prefer  to  maintain  the  converse  of 
the  proposition.  Perpetually  dwelling  on  how  or  why  a 
thing  should  be  done  may  not  only  distract  the  attention 
from  the  doing  of  it,  but  may  even  disqualify  us  for 
doing  it. 

Rule  of  rhetoric  for  the  college  student  :  l '  The  chief 
form  of  the  synecdoche  consists  in  naming  a  thing  by 
some  part  of  it,  as  :  Fifty  sail — they  sought  his  blood." 

In  the  first  place,  the  phraseology  of  this  rule  or  prin- 
ciple, like  that  of  many  another  of  its  kind,  is  too 
abstruse  to  be  intelligible  without  an  example.  This 
suggests,  in  the  second  place,  the  query  whether  the 
example  would  not  be  more  effective  without  the  rule 
than  with  it.  It  certainly  would.  In  the  third  place, 
then,  if  the  example  does  not  commend  itself  without 
the  principle,  it  will  not  because  of  the  principle. 
In  other  words,  all  the  pupil  needs  is  the  example.  All 
he  needs  to  know  is  that  there  is  such  a  form  of  expres- 
sion, and  that  he  is  free  to  appropriate  or  repudiate  it  as 
his  rhetorical  judgment  shall  dictate.  Example  acting 
upon  the  rhetorical  instinct,  the  rhetorical  instinct  assimi- 
lating the  example.  The  best  book  of  examples  for  a 


100  BEFORE    AN    AUDIENCE. 

student  in  rhetoric  is  a  book  written  by  a  good  rhetori- 
cian. There  is  no  better  training  for  the  rhetorical  ear 
than  the  perpetual  companionship  of  first-rate  writers — 
not  only  correct  or  elegant  writers,  but  contagious  ones. 
Even  the  best  of  writers  may  be  divided  into  contagious 
and  non-contagious. 

Is  it  likely  that  Mr.  Froude  or  "  George  Eliot"  would 

defend   their  use  of   the  phrase,    "  they 

The  Infant's    sought   his    blood,"   on   the  ground  that 

Way  the  u  faQ  chief  form  of  the  synecdoche  con- 
Best  Way  of  ...  ,  .  ,J  . 

Learning       S1S^8  m  nammg  a  thing  by  some  part  of 

Rhetoric.  it  "  ?  Is  it  likely  that  they  ever  commit- 
ted to  memory  any  such  rule,  or  if  they 
did,  is  it  likely  they  are  indebted  to  it  or  any  such  for 
their  proficiency  in  the  use  of  the  rhetorical  judgment  ? 

Suppose  your  attention  should  be  called  to  your  saying 
"  was"  when  you  should  say  "  were"  (a  common  error). 
Would  you  look  up  your  grammar  and  commit  to 
memory  this  rule  :  "  When  in  a  conditional  clause  it  is 
intended  to  express  doubt  or  denial,  use  the  subjunctive 
mood  "  ?  Or,  would  you  begin  at  once  to  substitute  the 
right  word  for  the  wrong  one  ? 

It  is  only  a  degree  more  absurd  to  cram  the  infant  at 
five  years  of  age  with  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  the 
corrections  you  urge  upon  his  attention,  than  to  bore  the 
child  at  twelve  years  of  age  with  the  reason  why  the 
verb  should  be  "  put  in  the  plural  "or  to  burden  the 
memory  of  the  youth  of  nineteen  years  of  age  with  awful 
principles  about  synecdoche  or  autonomasia. 

The  infant  gradually  corrects  his  syntax  by  following 
his  rhetorical  instinct  under  example  and  tuition.  The 
child  and  the  man  should  be  kept  to  the  same  method. 
The  ear  for  rhythm  and  idiom  should  be  cultivated  by 
practice  under  example,  guidance,  stimulation,  and  dis- 


THE   RHETORIC   FOR    PUBLIC    SPEAKING.  101 

cipline,  whether  the  pupil  be  five,  ten,  or  twenty  years 
of  age. 

The  infant's  use  of  language  and  sense  of  rhetorical 
propriety  will  be  influenced  by  his  examples  and  instruc- 
tions. He  will  go  up  to  the  accuracy  and  elegance,  or 
he  will  stay  down  with  the  rudeness  and  vulgarity  by 
which  he  is  surrounded.  Just  as  his  rhetorical  instinct 
is  bent,  his  rhetorical  culture  will  be  inclined.  His 
method  of  advancement  will  be  precisely  the  same  after 
he  has  left  the  companions  of  his  infancy  as  it  was 
before.  His  attainments  will  depend  upon,  not  the 
number  of  rules  and  exceptions  he  has  stored  in  his 
head,  but  upon  the  amount  and  kind  of  cultivation  his 
rhetorical  instinct  has  received 

Just  as  the  infant  learns  his  mother  tongue  up  to  the 
time  he  is  considered  of  proper  age  to  be  coached  with 
"rules  and  exceptions,"  just  so  should  he  continue  to 
learn  his  native  language  to  the  end  of  his  days,  whether 
he  confines  himself  to  the  use  of  that  language  in  con- 
versation, or  employs  it  in  newspaper,  book,  speech,  or 
sermon.  And  if  he  should  try  to  make  a  living  by 
making  sentences,  my  word  for  it,  he  will  find  himself 
always  learning  and  never  able  to  compass  the  knowledge 
of  his  mother  tongue,  if  his  mother  tongue  is  that  of 
Chaucer  and  Goldsmith,  Carlyle  and  Dickens,  Fox  and 
John  Henry  Newman. 

A  few  of  us,  a  very  few  of  us,  have  this  rhetorical 
instinct  largely  developed  to  begin  with.  With  such  it 
is  an  endowment  of  nature  as  rare  as  it  is  wonderful  and 
valuable.  The  rest  of  us,  the  great  majority  of  us,  have 
this  sense  or  faculty  small  to  begin  with,  and  are  there- 
fore dependent  upon  its  stimulation  and  education. 

Besides,  these  grammatical  rules  and  rhetorical  prin- 
ciples are  changing ;  and  usage  has  come  to  have  as 


102  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

much  authority  as  grammar  or  lexicon.  "We  are  told 
that  the  above-quoted  rule  about  the  subjunctive  mood 
is  doomed,  and  I  can  furnish  plenty  of  the  best  usage 
for  the  substitution  of  "  was"  for  "  were,"  "  most"  for 
"  more,"  and  for  such  words  and  phrases  as  "  won't," 
"don't,"  "no  one  else's,"  and  "  never  read  anything 
else  but  their  Bible,"  etc. 

The  perennial  controversy  over  "  the  Queen's  Eng- 
lish" and  "  the  Dean's  English,"  and  Mr.  Washington 
Moon's  English,  and  Mr.  Grant  White's  English,  and 
everybody's  else  English,  indicates  the  chaotic  state  of 
things  that  has  overtaken  our  unattainable  mother  tongue. 

When  you  reflect  upon  the  quarrel  over  the  question 
whether  we  shall  patronize  the  Latin  or  Saxon  words  of 
our  language,  and  the  quarrel  over  the  question,  How 
shall  we  spell  these  words  after  we  have  selected  them  ; 
and  the  quarrel  over  the  question,  How  shall  we  pro- 
nounce them  after  we  get  them  spelled  ;  and  the  quarrel 
over  the  question,  How  shall  we  arrange  them  in  sen- 
tences after  we  get  them  selected,  spelled,  and  pro- 
nounced ;  and  the  quarrel  over  the  question  whether  our 
essayists  are  to  pattern  after  Carlyle  or  Addison  ;  or  our 
poets  after  Tennyson  or  Browning  ;  or  our  orators  after 
Castelar  or  Wendell  Phillips  ;  or  our  preachers  after 
Robertson  or  Whitefield — I  say,  when  you  take  all  these 
quarrels  into  consideration,  I  am  sure  you  will  thank  us 
sensible  fellows  among  your  educators  for  knocking  the 
chains  of  Lindley  Murray  and  Whately  from  your  minds, 
and  telling  you  to  go  forth  free  to  indulge  or  to  dis- 
cipline, to  neglect  or  to  cultivate  your  rhetorical  instinct 
as  you  shall  see  fit,  we  never  ceasing  to  admonish  you, 
however,  that  whatsover  you  sow  in  the  way  of  rhetori- 
cal judgment,  that  shall  you  reap  in  the  way  of  rhetori- 
cal acquisition. 


THE   RHETORIC    FOR    PUBLIC    SPEAKING.  103 

In  this  rhetorical  training  yon  are  to  have  an  eye  upon 
the  rhetorical  deficiencies  of  your  audience,  but  you  are 
not  to  allow  your  audience  to  dictate  your 
rhetoric.  The  Audience 

The  late  Dr.  Guthrie  says  he  "drew  ^  not  to  be  the 
,  .  , ,  ,  ,,  only  Judge  of 

his  pen  through  every  passage,  even  those    the  Speaker's 

he  thought  best,  which  it  required  an  ex-  Rhetoric, 
traordinary  effort  to  commit  to  memory, 
reasoning  thus  :  If  it  does  not  make  such  an  impression 
on  my  mind  as  to  be  remembered  without  much  difficulty, 
how  is  it  to  impress  others  ?"  This  reasoning  is  against, 
not  so  much  the  passage,  as  the  memoriter  method  of 
utilizing  it.  Its  acceptance  is  made  to  turn  upon  (1)  its 
adaptation  to  being  committed  to  memory,  (2)  the  im- 
pression it  made  upon  the  mind  as  well  as  memory  of  its 
author,  and  (3)  his  judging  of  its  fitness  from  his 
memory  to  that  of  the  audience. 

The  same  admirable  public  speaker  tells  us  that  he 
"  catechised  a  class  of  young  persons  on  his  sermon" 
with  this  result  :  He  "  got  a  good  account  of  introduc- 
tion and  first  head,  meagre  one  of  the  second  head  ;  the 
third  was  an  utter  blank  ;  while  the  peroration,  when  it 
was  thought  attention  was  blunted  and  patience  ex- 
hausted, appeared  to  have  impressed  itself  on  their  minds 
like  a  seal  on  wax."  So  he  endeavored  to  (1)  avoid  the 
faults  of  the  ill-remembered  parts,  and  (2)  to  cultivate 
the  style  of  those  passages  which  had  engaged  the  atten- 
tion and  touched  the  f  eelings  of  his  hearers. 

Is  not  the  peroration  designed  to  ' '  sharpen  blunted 
attention  and  revive  exhausted  patience"  ?  But  does 
that  prove  that  the  perorative  "  style"  should  be  culti- 
vated exclusively,  or  that  the  heads  not  remembered  by 
one  class  of  hearers  should  be  cut  off,  or  that  heads 
which  none  remember  should  be  avoided  ?  Some  lost 


104  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

the  introduction  and  three  heads,  and  remembered  only 
the  concluding  portion.  Therefore  let  us  have  nothing 
but  the  concluding  portion.  But  may  not  their  recol- 
lection of  the  concluding  portion  have  been  dependent 
upon  the  portion  that  preceded  it  ?  Some  parts  are  re- 
membered by  certain  persons,  therefore  let  us  have  none 
but  those  parts  for  all  !  That  reduces  the  duty  of  the 
audience  to  an  exercise  like  that  of  a  class  in  the  recita- 
tion-room— an  exercise  of  memory.  Some  parts  do  not 
touch  the  feelings,  therefore  let  us  have  no  parts  but 
those  which  do  touch  the  feelings.  Has  the  public 
speaker,  or  even  the  preacher,  nothing  to  do  but  touch 
the  feelings  ? 

Archbishop  Tillotson,  we  are  told  by  our  setters  of  the 
preachers  to  rights,  was  in  the  habit  of  "rehearsing  his 
sermons  to  an  illiterate  old  woman  of  plain  sense,  and  of 
bringing  down  his  rhetoric  to  her  level."  Archbishop 
Tillotson  was  not  quite  right,  even  if  his  congregation 
was  made  up  exclusively  of  illiterate  old  women,  for  it  is 
the  business  of  an  archbishop  and  the  bishops  and  other 
clergy  to  level  up  the  illiterate  old  women,  and  not  allow 
themselves  to  be  levelled  down  by  illiterate  old  women, 
and  become  learned  old  women,  as,  indeed,  they  are  if 
they  are  forever  being  brought  down  by  their  audience 
instead  of  bringing  up  their  audience  to  their  level. 

Bishop  Latimer,  too,  boasted  that  he  "  repeated  him- 
self to  annoy  the  learned  in  his  congregation,  and  that 
he  sought  more  the  profit  of  those  which  be  ignorant 
than  to  please  the  learned  men."  But  are  not  learned 
men  worth  pleasing  and  converting  ?  Does  not  fishing 
for  men  include  angling  for  learned  men  ? 

Martin  Luther  falls  into  the  same  fallacy.  "  When 
I  preach,"  he  says,  "1  sink  myself  deeply  down; 
I  regard  neither  doctors  nor  masters,  of  whom  there 


THE   BHETORIC   FOR   PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  105 

are  in  the  church  above  forty  ;  but  I  have  an  eye 
to  the  multitude  of  young  people,  children,  and  ser- 
vants, of  whom  there  are  more  than  two  thousand." 

If  the  servants  and  children  make  the  most  of  the 
audience,  they  should  have  the  special  attention  of  the 
speaker ;  but  why  not  regard  the  forty  doctors  and 
masters  present  ?  Does  the  great  commission  enjoin  dis- 
regard of  doctors,  especially  when  so  many  doctors  of 
divinity  need  it  as  a  remedy  for  themselves  as  well  as  for 
their  hearers  ? 

Cardinal  Wiseman,  on  the  other  hand,  was  true  to  his 
name  in  giving  to  his  hearers  each  his  portion  in  due 
season,  and  with  due  seasoning.  "  Naturally  florid  and 
ornate,  he  could  come  down  from  his  sweeping  flights  to 
trudging  matter-of-fact  in  the  presence  of  an  audience 
that  will  tolerate  nothing  else."  But  whether  the 
speaker  is  compelled  to  come  down  by  the  audience,  as 
Dr.  Wiseman  was,  or  sinks  himself  down  of  his  own 
accord  in  disregard  of  the  impenitent  doctors,  as  Dr.  Mar- 
tin Luther  did,  or  comes  down  to  the  ignorant  in  order  to 
annoy  the  learned,  as  Bishop  Latimer  did,  or  levels  him- 
self down  for  the  exclusive  benefit  of  the  illiterate  old 
women  of  the  audience,  as  Archbishop  Tillotson  did,  he 
comes  far  short  of  that  breadth  of  training  in  the  use  of 
the  will,  and  the  judgment  which  is  indispensable  to  the 
first  order  of  excellence  in  the  art  of  public  speaking. 
He  is  not  making  the  most  of  himself  ;  he  is  deficient  in 
tact  ;  he  does  not  know  what  he  is  about.  He  is  a 
speaker  whose  rhetorical  tact  and  judgment  are  wretch- 
edly out  of  repair,  although  it  is  quite  possible  for  him 
to  be  thoroughly  conversant  with  all  the  rules  of  Eng- 
lish grammar  and  sacred  syntax  and  elocutionary  gym- 
nastics. Such  an  error  is  one  of  judgment,  and  can  only 
be  corrected  by  correcting  the  judgment. 


106  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

The  speaker's  vocabulary  is  another  attainment  that 

comes  to  him  by  way  of  the  rhetorical  judgment,  tact, 

and  ear,  and  the  use  of  the  will.    It  is  not 

Vocabulary  to    to  be  acquired  by  rote  or  rule,  but  by 

be  Left  to  the    traini™       Fox    gaid  .    "j    never   want    a 

Rhetorical  °         — 

Judgment        word,  but  ritt  never  wants  the  word. 

Pitt's  vocabulary  was  acquired.  So  is 
that  of  John  Bright.  He  has  always  been  a  student  of 
vocabulary.  Gladstone  says  :  "  Constant  and  searching 
reflection  on  the  subject  will  naturally  clothe  itself  in 
words,  and  of  the  phrases  it  supplies  many  will  rise 
spontaneously  to  the  lips."  Yes,  especially  if  the  lips 
should  happen  to  be  those  of  Mr.  Gladstone.  He  has  a 
genius  for  words.  They  are  sometimes  a  snare  to  him, 
but  the  majority  of  us  are  not  so  ensnared  or  inspired. 
What  comes  to  him  by  nature  we  must  acquire  by  study, 
by  the  use  of  the  ear  that  trieth  words,  by  knowing  what 
we  and  our  words  are  about. 

Here  again  we  are  met  by  our  arbitrary  teachers,  who, 
not  content  with  dictating  our  gestures  and  emphasis, 
insist  upon  specifying  the  words  that  we  are  to  use  and 
the  words  that  we  are  to  avoid.  They  must  be  small 
words,  or  words  of  at  most  a  couple  of  syllables,  and 
they  must  be  words  with  which  everybody  is  familiar, 
and  they  must  be  words  of  Saxon  origin. 

A  learned  and  dull  preacher  of  the  English  Church 
said  recently  in  a  public  address  :  "  Great  effects  are  not 
now  produced  by  great  words.  We  have  been  a  literary 
people  long  enough  to  have  used  up  most  of  our  big 
phrases.  If  any  rhetoric  wants  teaching  to  those  who 
are  to  lead  others,  it  is  the  rhetoric  of  simplicity  ;  the 
art  of  expressing  earnest  thoughts  in  plain  words.  Not 
the  outer  sparkle,  but  the  inner  heat,  kindles  the  sym- 
pathy of  modern  hearers.  It  is  true,  the  day  of  flocking 


THE    RHETOEIC    FOB   PUBLIC    SPEAKING.  107 

after  great  orators  is  not  gone  by  ;  but  the  day  of  seeing 
through  them  is  come." 

There  is  only  one  way  of  accounting  for  this  con- 
temptuous reference  to  the  dramatic  and  rhetorical  ele- 
ment in  public  speaking  on  the  part  of  a  public  speaker 
who  lived  in  the  country  and  age  of  Whitefield,  Irving, 
Chalmers,  Peel,  Brougham,  O'Connell,  Erskine,  Shiel, 
Fox,  Pitt,  Scarlett,  and  Gladstone.  The  learned  dean 
was  utterly  deficient  in  comprehension  or  appreciation 
of  the  art  of  public  speaking,  and  would  reduce  all 
other  speakers  to  the  drowsy  cadences  and  monotonous 
intone  with  which  he  practised  what  he  calls  "  the  art 
of  expressing  earnest  thoughts  in  plain  words."  The 
day  of  flocking  after  commonplace  preachers  has  not 
gone  by,  but  the  day  of  seeing  through  their  sour  grapes 
has  come. 

We  thirty  millions  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  we 
fifty  millions  in  the  United  States,  will  be  much  more  of 
a  "  literary  people"  than  we  are  before  we  can  dispense 
with  big  phrases,  just  as  we  shall  have  to  be  much  more 
of  an  artistic  people  than  we  are  before  we  deny  our- 
selves chromos  or  despise  our  engravings,  as  we  are 
taught  to  do  by  Mr.  Seymour  Haden.  To  make 
the  matter  still  more  discouraging,  some  of  our  liter- 
ary people  prefer  John  Gilpin  to  John  Milton,  and 
even  look  upon  "  Paradise  Lost"  as  a  mass  of  "  big 
phrases"  to  be  exchanged  for  the  plain  words  of  Jane 
Austen,  which  Lord  Macaulay,  one  of  the  "  literary 
people"  of  some  note,  preferred  to  even  his  own  "  great 
words"  and  "  outer  sparkle." 

The  public  speaker  must  use  only  words  of  Saxon 
origin,  according  to  those  who  in  all  probability  have 
never  yet  paused  long  enough  in  their  private  conversa- 
tion to  find  out  whether  their  vocabulary  is  of  Saxon  or 


108  BEFORE   AN"   AUDIENCE. 

Sioux  origin.  Nor  is  it  of  any  more  consequence  to 
him  than  it  is  to  them  whether  his  words  came  from 
the  North  Pole  or  South  Africa.  "What  we  said  about 
the  voice  we  say  about  the  vocabulary :  its  origin, 
its  history,  and  its  constituent  parts  are  all  equally 
immaterial  to  the  public  speaker,  however  interesting 
they  may  be  to  the  philologist. 

Whately  indorses  what  he  calls  the  obvious  rule  laid 
down  by  Aristotle,  to  avoid  uncommon  and  hard  words, 
and  prefers  terms  of  Saxon  origin  because  they  will  be 
more  familiar  to  the  hearers  than  those  of  Latin  origin. 

In  the  first  place,  uncommon  words  are  educational, 
and  the  speaker  is  an  educator,  a  leveller  up  ;  in  the 
second  place,  the  Latin  word  might  be  more  intelligible 
than  the  Saxon  word  ;  in  the  third  place,  any  speaker 
who  stops  to  study  the  history  of  his  words  will  never 
have  words  enough  or  bread  enough  in  his  mouth  to  save 
him  from  starvation. 

Of  what  possible  use  is  it  to  the  speaker  to  know  when 
he  uses  the  word  thunder  that  it  has  the  same  origin  as 
the  Latin  tonitu,  and  that  the  root  is  tan,  to  stretch  ;  and 
that  in  Sanscrit  the  sound  thunder  is  expressed  by  the 
same  root,  tan  ?  If  his  speech  is  improved  by  thunder, 
the  word  should  be  found  in  his  speech,  although  his 
using  that  particular  word  is  a  reproof  of  those  who  see 
no  use  for  any  but  the  Saxon  words  of  the  English 
tongue,  which  contains  deposits  from  every  tongue. 
Max  Miiller  says :  "  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  Celtic, 
Saxon,  Danish,  French,  Spanish,  Italian,  German, 
Hindustani,  Malay,  and  Chinese  words  lie  mixed  in  the 
English  dictionary."  In  this  cauldron  the  public 
speaker  is  to  find,  and  out  of  it  to  select  and  appropriate, 
his  vocabulary,  and  with  exclusive  reference  to  its  suit- 
ableness and  effectiveness. 


THE   RHETORIC   FOtt   PDBLiO    SNEAKING.  J.09 

The  absurdity  of  this  Saxon  partiality  is  all  the  more 
apparent  when  you  reflect  upon  the  changes  that  have 
taken  place  in  the  so-called  Anglo-Saxon  tongue.  Max 
Miiller  says  :  "  The  language  of  Alfred  is  so  different 
from  the  English  of  the  present  day  that  we  have  to 
study  it  in  the  same  manner  as  we  study  Greek  and 
Latin  !"  And  yet  it  must  not  be  studied  so  as  to  get 
any  "  discipline"  out  of  it,  because  it  is  not  one  of  the 
"  dead  languages."  Why  not  get  discipline  and  infor- 
mation at  one  and  the  same  time  by  one  and  the  same 
study  ?  When  the  English  language  becomes  a  dead 
language  it  will  be  treated  with  the  respect  which  it  now 
deserves  as  a  live  language. 

In  a  word,  the  English  has  come  to  be  distinctly  and 
separately  a  language  of  itself,  and  may  be  called  Anglo- 
Italian,  or,  for  that  matter,  Anglo-Hindustani,  if  you 
prefer  calling  it  after  the  names  of  all  its  "  dead  "  rela- 
tives to  calling  it  by  its  rightful  and  Christian  name. 
As  we  are  a  nation  of  foreigners,  our  tongue  is  a  native 
language  of  foreign  birth. 

Etymology  is  of  no  more  use  to  the  public  speaker 
than  entomology.  In  fact,  it  is  as  embarrassing  to  be 
paddling  among  the  roots  of  your  words  as  it  is  to 
be  peering  into  a  diagram  to  learn  the  uses  of  your 
diaphragm.  Etymology  is  just  as  useless  to  the  speaker 
as  philology.  The  clamor  for  Saxon  words  is  no 
more  rational  than  would  be  the  demand  that  all  words 
should  be  used  with  their  first  signification,  Christian,  for 
example,  and  snob  and  radical  and  libel  and  officious. 

It  is  of  far  more  importance  that  you  should  speak 
correctly  the  words  that  now  constitute  the  English  lan- 
guage, whatever  be  their  origin  or  etymology,  than  that 
you  should  show  partiality  for  Saxon  or  Latin  words. 
In  fact,  it  is  of  no  consequence  where  the  words  pretty, 


110  BEFORE    AN    AUDIENCE. 

across,  window,  method,  here,  getting,  coming,  and  for, 
originated,  but  it  is  very  important  that  you  should  not 
say  pooty,  acrost,  winder,  inethid,  yere,  gettin',  comin', 
and  fur. 

Do  not  feel  under  obligation  to  read  Homer  because 
Bossuet  and  Curran  did  and  Gladstone  does,  or  Milton 
because  Pitt  did  and  John  Bright  does,  or  Dante  because 
Robert  Hall  and  Brougham  did,  or  Burke  because  Ma- 
caulay  did,  or  Demosthenes  because  Burke  did,  or 
Euripides  because  Fox  did,  or  Barrow  because  Chatham 
did,  or  Chrysostom  because  Barrow  did.  Such  an  affec- 
tation is  not  only  ridiculous,  but  hindering.  You  may 
be  throwing  away  your  time  as  some  of  these  great 
speakers  may  have  done,  for  it  does  not  follow  that  their 
speaking  was  as  much  affected  by  their  reading  as  they 
supposed.  Because  a  man  is  fond  of  reading  Homer  or 
Milton  does  not  prove  that  they  influence  his  rhetoric. 
In  fact,  an  affectation  of  a  partiality  for  Milton,  and  of 
indifference  for  Goldsmith,  is  not  unknown  among  men 
of  some  renown.  However,  be  this  as  it  may,  and  be 
your  rhetorical  likings  what  they  may,  keep  company 
with  good  English,  the  best  modern  English,  the  best 
modern  oratorical  English.  You  are  living  in  an  age 
glorious  for  good  English.  Keep  your  eye  upon  its 
form,  your  ear  upon  its  rhythm  and  cadence  ;  keep  your 
sense  of  rhetoric  sensitive  to  its  quips  and  sentences  and 
bullets  of  the  brain.  Think  in  good  English,  talk  with 
as  copious  and  varied  a  vocabulary  as  you  can  command, 
keep  the  door  of  your  lips  as  sternly  against  the  vulgar 
and  ill-considered  word  as  you  do  or  should  do  against 
the  intoxicating  liquor  or  the  indigestible  food. 

Somebody,    or   a  hearer   of   sermons   who   evidently 
thinks  he  is  somebody  in  the  matter  of  criticising  preach 
ere,  says  in  the  columns  of  the  Spectator  : 


THE   BHETOKIC   FOB  PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  Ill 

"  A  few  Sundays  ago  I  was  coming  out  of  a  church, 
where  I  had   heard   a   distinguished  ec- 
clesiastic of  the  day,  and  overtook  an  ac-    Be  Thankful  for 

T^  ¥        J  •       •  A 

quaintance  who  had  been  similarly  occu-    a  .?* Indlvld~ 
\   _  ual  Sentences 

pied.        A    wonderfully    nne    sermon  !        with  a  QOO(I 

remarked  my  friend.       '  Well,'   I   ven-  Ring, 

tured  to  reply,  '  individual  sentences  had 
a  good  ring  •  but  I  confess  when  he  arrived  at  the 
end,  I  had  not  the  least  idea  what  the  whole  sermon 
was  about. '  '  Oh,  yes  ! '  replied  my  friend,  '  I  did 
notice  that.1  Now,  sir,  in  the  name  of  all  that's  won- 
derful, what  meaning  did  he  attach  to  the  word  '  fine,' 
and  what  had  been  the  real  cause  of  his  enthusiasm  ?" 

The  distinguished  ecclesiastic  might  retort  that  he  had 
not  the  least  idea  what  the  whole  criticism  was  about, 
and  he  doubted  if  his  critic  had.  Was  not  his  acquaint- 
ance as  well  warranted  in  calling  the  sermon  a  fine  one 
by  reason  of  its  individual  sentences  with  their  good 
ring,  as  he  was  in  sneering  at  it  for  want  of  what  I  pre- 
sume he  has  in  mind,  that  everlasting  "  unity  of  dis- 
course, ' '  and  the  like,  which  the  books  on  Sacred  Syntax 
and  Holy  Hermeneutics  insist  upon  ?  He  would  have 
thought  and  logic  and  unity  for  fifty-two  Sundays  of  the 
year,  and  two  of  such  sermons  every  Sunday,  for  he 
goes  on  to  complain  that  the  church-goer  "  does  not  like 
to  be  called  upon  to  think"  (in  church),  but  prefers  "  a 
warm,  equable  trickle  of  religious  prose -poetry,  which  he 
finds  partly  a  stimulant  and  partly  a  sedative."  This 
setter  of  the  preachers  to  rights  would  have  a  sermon  all 
stimulant,  every  sentence  with  a  good  ring,  and  the 
whole  a  repast  equal  to  the  requirements  of  his  intellect- 
ual digestion.  But  suppose  his  was  the  only  such  diges- 
tive apparatus  in  the  audience  of  the  distinguished 
ecclesiastic.  Should  the  rest  of  the  sheep  be  starved 


112  BEFORE   AN"   AUDIENCE. 

that  this  high-toned  ram  may  be  stuffed  ?  For  my  part, 
I  suspect  that  there  were  quite  enough  of  ringing,  fine 
sentences  in  that  sermon  to  justify  its  designation  as  a 
"  wonderfully  fine  sermon,"  and  that  it  was  not  alto- 
gether  the  fault  of  the  sermon  that  its  critic  "  had  not 
the  least  idea  of  what  the  whole  sermon  was  about." 
When  he  does  not  see  the  point,  is  it  necessarily  the  fault 
of  the  point  ?  Is  it  indispensable  to  the  success  of  the 
sermon  that  the  hearer  should  know  what  the  whole  of 
it  is  about  ?  May  it  not  be  enough  for  him  to  know  and 
feel  and  realize  what  a  part  of  it  is  about — a  ringing, 
stinging,  individual  sentence  of  it,  for  example  ?  Many 
such  an  arrow  has  gone  home  while  every  other  missed 
of  their  mark,  and  may  have  gone  home  to  some  other. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  most  effective  preaching  is  most 
effective  with  these  arrows,  whether  stimulant  or  seda- 
tive, or  both  combined,  and  many  a  time  the  bow  is  drawn 
at  a  venture,  and  many  a  preacher  has  acknowledged  it. 
There  are  questions  of  tact  in  public  speaking  which 

can  be  settled  only  by  the  attainment  of 
Questions  to  be  what  be  called  rhetorical  tact> 

Settled  by  Rhe-        ~          J         .      ..  .  .  il 

torical  Tact  ^  or  examplej  ^  1S  unwise  to  weary  the 

imagination  of  the  hearer,  because  you 
are  sure  by  that  means  to  weary  his  muscles  and  sinews. 
It  will  weary  his  imagination  to  be  told  at  the  start  what 
you  propose  to  accomplish  before  you  stop.  It  will 
weary  him  to  tell  him  that  after  you  have  done  so  and 
so  you  will  do  so  and  so,  and  then  so  and  so,  and  finally 
and  in  conclusion,  so  and  so.  Go  on  and  do  it.  Say 
your  say  and  be  done  with  it.  Never  say  :  Before  I 
pass  to  the  preliminary  remarks,  by  way  of  preface  to  the 
introduction  to  the  first  head  of  my  sixteen  heads,  I 
wish  to  remark,  in  the  first  place,  that — but,  by  the  way, 
before  I  pass  to  that,  I  wish  to  say  that,  etc. 


THE    RHETORIC    FOR   PUBLIC    SPEAKING.  113 

We  are  told  that  the  late  Moses  Stuart  preached  a 
sermon  in  which  he  (1)  "  occupied  a  large  part  of  an 
hour  telling  his  audience  what  he  was  not  going  to 
preach  about,  of  errors  he  was  not  going  to  combat, 
giving  (2)  a  sketch  of  the  heresies  alluded  to,  (3)  a  few 
strokes  designed  to  show  how  easily  they  could  be 
demolished  if  he  should  take  the  time,  and  (4)  the  real 
instruction  for  unlearned  hearers  who  cared  nothing  for 
exploded  theories  was  summed  up  in  a  few  paragraphs." 
And  yet  the  unlearned  hearers  were  a  majority  of  the 
congregation  ! 

An  astute  and  penetrating  auditor  of  Dr.  Liddon  says 
of  his  preaching  : 

' '  As  we  follow  him  from  sermon  to  sermon,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  detect  the  various  intellectual  tendencies  of 
his  sermons — to  see  at  one  point  how  he  is  combating 
some  of  the  opinions  of  Mr.  Mill,  and  at  another  how  he 
has  risen  fresh  from  the  perusal  of  the  writings  of  Mr. 
Lecky  ;  how,  again,  he  is  combating  the  English  forms 
into  which  the  French  system  of  Comte  has  thrown 
itself,  and  how,  again,  he  is  meeting  the  latest  German 
rationalists  before  their  newest  errors  have  become 
naturalized  in  England  ;  once  more,  how  he  is  crystalliz- 
ing vague,  floating  thought  and  difficulties  on  sacred 
subjects,  or  combating  the  full  tide  of  secular  opinion 
as  found  in  such  periodicals  as  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  or 
the  Saturday  Review." 

Here  is  an  opportunity  for  the  speaker's  rhetorical 
judgment  and  tact.  Is  this  adroit  or  maladroit  ?  That 
depends  upon  the  character  of  the  audience.  If  Dr.  Lid- 
don's  hearers,  or  the  most  of  them,  knew  what  he  was 
driving  at  as  well  as  this  one  of  them  did,  he  may  hare 
been  justified  in  this  covert  method  of  conducting  a  con- 
troversy, but  I  doubt  it.  If,  however,  very  few  of  hii 


114  BEFOEE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

audience  could  follow  his  "  vague,  floating  thought,"  his 
time  and  theirs  was  lost,  miserably  lost. 

Look  out  for  vagueness  under  the  guise  of  culture. 
Be  not  too  thin.  There  is  one  element  inseparable  from 
the  rhetoric  of  public  speaking,  and  that  is  the  carti- 
laginous element,  physical  earnestness  in  the  diction. 
This  animal  force  of  which  Carlyle  was  so  enamored  and 
of  which  he  was  so  powerful  a  champion,  compounded 
of  iron  and  muscle,  of  the  brain  of  the  gods  and  the 
brawn  of  the  brutes,  always  sits  before  you  when  you 
stand  before  an  audience.  Master  it  or  it  will  master 
you.  It  is  to  be  taken  account  of  when  you  make 
rhetoric  for  it.  The  Apostle  Paul  made  much  of  it.  He 
taught  the  gentlest  of  all  religions  by  means  of  meta- 
phors drawn  from  the  wrestlers,  the  racers,  and  the  war- 
riors. A  veteran  banker,  who  has  been  surrounded  from 
birth  with  affluence  and  elegance,  said  to  me  :  "I  like 
my  preacher  to  hit  me  a  whack  and  knock  me  headlong 
occasionally." 

Rhetorically  speaking  he  meant,  of  course,  for  it 
would  hardly  have  done  for  his  parson  to  try  it  literally. 
The  preacher  makes  a  mistake  damaging  to  not  only 
his  style  of  speaking,  but  his  auditors'  style  of  hear- 
ing, if  he  supposes  that  a  city  congregation  parted  with 
their  brutality  when  they  took  leave  of  their  poverty, 
and  hired  a  furniture  dealer  to  furnish  them  with  taste. 
Scratch  any  rich  man  and  you  will  come  to  the  poor  one. 
The  new  veneer  is  thin,  the  old  character  is  thick. 

The  setters  of  the  public  speakers  to  rights  have  been 
agitated  by  a  large  number  of  questions  which  are  to  be 
settled  by  the  trained  will,  judgment,  tact,  taste,  of  the 
speaker,  such  as  whether  he  shall  read  a  manuscript  in 
part  or  in  full,  or  speak  from  notes,  or  write  in  full  and 
commit,  or  write  in  part  and  commit,  or  think  out  and 


THE   RHETORIC   FOR  PUBLIC   SPEAKING.  115 

commit  the  thoughts,  or  think  out  a  few  heads  and  leave 
the  remainder  to  be  thought  out  in  public. 

Sydney  Smith  said  :  "  Reading  sermons  is  a  practice 
that  stifles  every  germ  of  eloquence."  Then  reading 
sermons  is  a  blessing,  for  it  stifles  many  a  germ  of  elo- 
quence that  ought  to  be  stifled  just  as  the  germs  of 
malaria  ought  to  be  stifled.  But  it  did  not  stifle  the 
germs  of  Chalmers's  eloquence  or  Dean  Stanley's, 
although  he,  like  many  another  reader,  did  his  best  to 
stifle  an  eloquent  rhetoric  with  the  approved  Anglican 
intonation.  Nevertheless,  the  brilliant  dean  did  quite 
right  in  reading  his  sermons.  His  germ  of  eloquence 
would  certainly  have  been  stifled  by  an  imitation  of 
Sydney  Smith's  extempore  "  practice." 

I  would  not  begin  here  by  laying  on  a  rule  from  with- 
out, but  by  training  the  judgment,  tact,  and  taste  from 
within.  I  would  have  the  will  set  in  motion.  I  would 
have  the  man  know  what  he  and  his  sermon  or  lecture 
are  about,  and  I  would  have  him  seek  to  make  the  most 
of  himself  ;  and  if  then  he  does  not  know  by  what 
method  it  is  best  for  him  to  address  an  audience,  1  would 
advise  him  to  go  to  hedging,  ditching,  or  insurance,  any 
honest  calling,  no  matter  what,  and  quit  public  jpeaking 
forever. 


VIII. 

A  TALK  ABOUT  AUDIENCES. 

THE  audience  is  an  enormous  factor  in  the  speaker's 
calculations.  An  eye  for  his  audience  and  quickness  in 
reading  it  is  another  attainment  of  inestimable  value, 
and  one  that  is  susceptible  of  indefinite  cultivation. 

There  are  audiences  and  audiences.  I  have  met  them 
face  to  face  and  had  all  sorts  of  experiences  with  them, 
good,  bad,  and  worse,  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco, 
from  Land's  End  to  John  O' Groat's,  from  Cork  to  the 
Causeway.  Let  us  have  a  talk  about  them. 

All  foreign  audiences  are  far  more  demonstrative  than 
ours,  and  take  far  more  liberties  with  the  speaker. 
Even  the  regulation  "  applause,"  or  clap- 
American  and  ping  the  hands,  is  by  no  means  frequent 

reign    u        .^  ^&  country  out  of  the  large  cities  or 
ences  Com-  *  J 

pared.  a  political   mass-meeting,  where  we   ap- 

plaud, not  so  much  our  speaker  as  our  side. 
In  fact,  it  is  very  common  for  the  lecturer  to  appear  and 
disappear  in  the  Great  Republic  without  so  much  as  a  wink 
to  cheer  his  despairing  sense  of  oratorical  collapse.  I 
remember  hearing  the  late  M.  Thiers,  who  was  a  very 
sensitive  as  well  as  vigorous  orator,  when  it  was  truly 
said  of  him  that  he  "  became  a  little  confused  in  his 
sentences  because  he  was  expecting  applause  which  did 
not  comes. ' '  The  French  speaker  misses  it  because  the 
French  audience  is  so  given  to  it.  Themistocles  ex- 
claimed, upon  receiving  the  plaudits  at  the  Olympic 


A  TALK   ABOUT  AUDIENCES.  117 

festival,  "  This  is  the  happiest  moment  I  have  ever 
known  !  I  now  have  the  full  reward  of  all  my  labors." 
The  American  lecturer  would  give  half  his  fee  for  that 
same  reward.  The  unhappiest  moments  of  his  life  are 
spent  in  trying  to  earn  the  plaudits  that  never  come.  I 
have  known  him  to  stop  and  call  the  manager  to  him  in 
the  midst  of  the  awful  silence  and  whisper,  "What  is  the 
matter  ?  Are  they  mad  at  me  ?  An  English  audience 
divides  its  expressions  of  approbation  between  "  Hear — 
hear,"  clapping  of  hands,  and  cheers  ;  and  its  disappro- 
bation is  expressed,  according  to  its  kind  and  degree,  by 
"  Oh — oh  !"  which  means  I  doubt  it,  or  Ought  you  to 
say  it ;  by  "  Time — time,"  which  means  that  the 
speaker  is  taking  more  than  his  share  of  the  oratorical 
proceedings  ;  by  ironical  stamping,  which  means,  "We 
are  tired  of  you,  quit  ;  by  hisses  or  "  Shame — shame," 
which  is  the  greeting  given  to  anything  specially  out- 
rageous, as  quoted  by  the  speaker  from  an  opponent, 
for  example  ;  by  "  Louder — louder,"  which  is  no  more 
prevalent  than  it  is  deserved  ;  by  "  Chair — chair,"  which 
indicates  that  the  presiding  officer  is  on  his  legs,  and  the 
debater  must  get  off  of  his  ;  by  "  Question — question," 
which  reminds  the  debater  that  he  has  wandered  from 
the  matter  in  dispute  ;  and  by  "  Order — order,"  which 
is  intended  to  silence  unparliamentary  language.  Several 
of  these,  of  course,  will  only  be  heard  in  a  deliberative 
body. 

It  is  singular  that,  with  all  our  imitations  of  the  Eng- 
lish, their  "  hear — hear"  has  never  been  adopted.  It  is 
a  great  convenience  to  both  speaker  and  hearer.  It  is  a 
go-between  in  the  way  of  applause,  and  admirably  fills 
the  often  necessarily  chilling  and  protracted  gap  between 
utter  silence  and  rousing  acclamations.  Then  this  free- 
dom of  speech  in  the  treatment  of  the  speaker  is  of  great 


118  BEFORE   AN    AUDIENCE. 

advantage  to  him.  It  keeps  his  mind  upon  the  "  ques- 
tion," his  eye  upon  the  audience,  and  his  glance  upon 
the  clock.  It  is  an  excellent  training  for  him  to  be  re- 
minded, by  the  tap  of  the  impatient  heel,  that  audiences 
have  rights  which  orators  are  bound  to  respect.  And  as 
often  as  I  have  heard  this  liberty  of  lip  and  limb  exer- 
cised, I  have  never  seen  it  abused.  In  the  House  of 
Commons  and  in  Exeter  Hall  it  is  used  with  remarkable 
discrimination. 

Miss  Thursby  deplores  the  undemonstrative  behavior 
of  the  American  audience,  and  says  in  other  countries 
"the  feelings  find  quick  expression,"  much  to  "the 
encouragement  of  the  performer."  Kean  had  the  same 
experience  in  this  country,  and  told  his  manager  he 
"  could  not  go  on  the  stage  again  if  the  men  kept  their 
hands  in  their  pockets.  Such  an  audience  would  extin- 
guish Etna." 

All  American  speakers  and  actors  who  have  had  ex- 
perience abroad  join  in  Miss  Thursby's  lamentation,  but 
her  explanation  is  inadequate. 

Applause  and  hisses,  hear — hear,  and  oh — oh,  are  con- 
ventionalities in  England.  Everything  is  conventional 
and  traditional  in  England — the  cheers  of  the  commons, 
the  obeisances  at  court,  and  the  rowdyism  of  the  students 
at  the  installation  of  lord  rector.  John  Bull,  whether  a 
pig  at  the  trough,  a  spaniel  crouching  at  the  feet  of  a 
lord,  or  a  roaring  lion  seeking  whom  he  may  devour  in 
Africa  or  India,  is  an  animal  governed  by  etiquette  and 
traditions ;  but  when  he  applauds  a  fellow  it  makes  a 
fellow  feel  very  much  obliged  to  him,  whether  the  ap- 
plause comes  of  etiquette  or  enthusiasm.  Even  hissing 
has  its  advantages.  It  emboldens  the  speaker,  who  might 
otherwise  leave  his  will  unworked  and  let  his  lireg  go 
out. 


A   TALK   ABOUT   AUDIENCES.  119 

I  was  hissed  by  a  Scotch  audience  for  announcing  a 
different  lecture  from  the  one  advertised.  I  was  quite 
right    in    supposing   that   the    lecture   I 
brought  would  interest  them  more  than   jn  a  ROW  ^th 
the  one  they  expected,  but  I  was  maladroit     the  Audience, 
in  making  the  change.    I  was  experienced 
enough  to  know  that  an  audience  is  as  testy  as  an  indi- 
vidual.    A  change  of  subject  cuts  off  their  ears.     Always 
stick  to  the  advertised  topic.     Never  rub  the  face  of  an 
audience  the  wrong  way,  unless  indeed  you  have  a  case 
to  argue  with  it,  or  an  appeal  to  make  for  an  unpopular 
cause. 

I  was  hissed  again  in  Scotland — this  time  in  Edinburgh 
— by  the  students  of  the  University  at  the  lecture  before 
the  Philosophical  Institution.  In  view  of  a  certain  dis- 
cussion which  was  then  and  there  agitating  the  educa- 
tional world,  I  took  pains  to  say  that  in  America,  if  a 
woman  passed  the  examination,  she  was  given  the  degree 
or  admitted  to  the  class.  The  undergraduates  hissed, 
and  1  hissed  back  at  them  the  obnoxious  sentiment,  and 
the  rest  of  the  audience  came  to  my  support  with  a  hurri- 
cane of  claps,  stamps,  and  hear — hears.  What  shall  a 
man  do  under  such  circumstances  ?  He  has  nothing  to  do 
but  keep  cool  and  look  cool.  What  shall  he  say  ?  Why, 
"if  any  of  the  audience  hiss,"  under  such  circum- 
stances "  you  may  cry,  Now,  Hercules,  thou  crushest 
the  snake. "  But  it  would  not  have  been  adroit  to  say 
that  to  the  audience  that  was  simply  teased  by  my  bring- 
ing them  a  lecture  that  they  had  not  bargained  for.  An 
American  audience  would,  in  both  these  cases,  have  been 
less  demonstrative,  but  just  as  resentful.  The  disap- 
pointed would  have  been  sullen,  the  opponents  of  the 
women  would  have  sulked  or  possibly  left  the  house  with 
creaky  boots. 


120  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

1  have  known  this  to  be  done  to  me  for  appearing  in 
the  place  of  another  lecturer.  In  spite  of  the  apologies 
of  the  manager,  who  said  the  promised  orator  was  dead, 
or  something  or  other  equally  conclusive,  I  forget  now 
what,  and  in  spite  of  my  own  conciliatory  grins,  there 
was  no  oh — oh  or  hisses  as  in  Great  Britain,  but  a  move- 
ment and  a  getting  up  and  going  out  with  new  boots  on, 
as  in  America.  Finally,  an  offensive  partisan  of  the  dead 
and  gone  lecturer,  who  was  just  sufficiently  inebriated  to 
know  what  he  was  about,  arose  and  opened  an  argument 
with  the  chair,  who  answered  him  by  ordering  in  the 
police,  who  carried  him  bodily  from  the  hall.  I  felt  by 
that  time  as  if  the  hall  were  taking  itself  bodily  from 
under  me,  and  that  I  had  nothing  left  now  to  stand  upon 
but  my  dignity,  and  I  could  plainly  feel  that  give  way 
under  me,  although  I  did  not  betray  that  feeling  to  the 
audience.  I  waited  for  the  intoxication  of  the  enemy 
over  his  temporary  success  to  subside,  gathered  my  scat- 
tered forces  in  the  way  of  faculties  and  audience,  and — 
went  on  with  the  lecture  to  its  peroration,  which  I  cast 
aside  for  one  that  I  recalled  of  a  far  more  victorious  ring, 
and  retired  amid  a  burst  of  applause,  and  won  the  head- 
line of  "  a  plucky  lecturer"  in  the  morning  paper. 
The  speaker  at  bay  before  an  audience  should  never  show 
the  white  feather,  though  it  may  be  impossible  for  him 
to  avoid  a  white  feeling.  A  bold  front  may  win  his 
enemy  ;  a  back  down  will  lose  his  friends. 

One  more,  while  I  am  in  the  mood  for  reminiscences. 
This  is  a  case  where  I  had  to  handle  an  audience  that  I 
was  not  allowed  to  see.  An  esteemed  contemporary  in 
the  lecture  field  was  suddenly  bereft  of  his  voice  by  a 
cold,  and  implored  me  to  take  his  place  in  a  neighboring 
town.  It  was  only  ten  hours  before  the  lecture.  I 
hesitated,  and  expressed  my  awful  dread  ;  but  there  was 


A  TALK   ABOUT   AUDIENCES.  121 

my  professional  duty,  to  say  nothing  of  my  obliging  dis- 
position, and  there  was  my  friend  imploring  me  with 
wheezing  despair  to  take  the  letter  of  introduction  and 
go.  I  took  the  letter  of  introduction  and  went.  It  was 
a  gushing  letter  that  my  friend  insisted  upon  sending. 
It  even  asserted  that  I  could  beat  him  lecturing  hollow, 
and  there  were  few  lecturers,  etc.,  etc.  But  all  to  no 
purpose  with  the  lecture  manager  at  Blankville.  He 
read  it  under  the  kerosene  flame  of  the  depot,  and  re- 
marked, "  It  will  not  do,  sir  !"  We  parted,  he  for  the 
audience  and  I  for  the  hotel.  The  lecture  which  I  was 
not  allowed  to  deliver  was  to  be  delivered  in  an  hour. 
Should  I  go  to  the  church  and  insist  upon  a  hearing, 
seeing  that  the  man  who  had  thus  suddenly  become  my 
antagonist  held  the  fort  and  the  surrounding  territory, 
and  that  I  held  nothing  but  my  carpet-bag  and  the  lecture 
in  it,  and  knew  nobody,  not  a  soul.  No,  that  would  be 
bad  tactics.  I  knew  a  better  tactic  than  that.  knew 
newspapering.  I  would  newspaper  him.  I  found  a 
newspaper  just  going  to  press  with  its  usual  lack  of  a 
sensation. 

"Editor,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,  and  you  ?" 

"  Lecturer,  I  suppose.     Will  you  insert  a  card  ?" 

"  Well — yes — I — I — suppose  so.  Why,  what  is  the 
nature  of  it  ?" 

I  wrote  the  facts  as  I  have  herein  narrated  them. 
Came  with  letter  from  So-and-so  to  So-and-so,  who  said  it 
would  not  answer,  sir.  Signed  my  entire  name.  Edi- 
tor's eye  twinkled.  Said  that  was  all  right,  and  added, 
By  Jove  !  or  something  that  sounded  like  that,  and  asked 
lots  of  questions.  Seemed  to  enjoy  the  whole  affair 
much  more  than  I  did.  Well,  thought  I,  he  is  no  brother- 
in-law  of  the  enemy,  that's  evident.  I  went  home,  the 


123  BEFORE  AN  AUDIENCB. 

card  came  out,  the  town  buzzed,  the  enemy  was  (so  I 
was  told)  dumbfounded.  He  was  importuned  to  say  his 
say  in  another  card,  and  he  said  he  would,  or  perish 
in  the  attempt ;  but  he  never  did.  I  received  an  invita- 
tion to  lecture  on  such  date  as  would  suit  my  conven- 
ience, signed  by  a  long  list  of  good  and  foremost  citizens. 
I  selected  a  date,  was  met  by  a  band  of  music,  escorted 
to  the  hall,  which  was  jammed,  and  when  I  had  struggled 
my  way  to  the  platform  I  had  an  uproarious  welcome. 
Delivered  the  lecture,  never  alluded  to  the  enemy,  and 
we  have  never  alluded  to  one  another  since  ;  and  that  was 
my  experience  in  that  town. 

Another  time  my  trunk  was  detained,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  lecture  in  borrowed  plumage  and  stand  in 
another  man's  boots  in  a  very  literal  sense.  I  must  have 
looked  as  I  felt,  for  the  reporter  said,  "  He  looked  as 
solemn  as  if  he  had  just  come  up  out  of  the  grave."  If 
he  had  said  mean  instead  of  solemn,  he  would  come 
nearer  to  my  feelings. 

Another  time  I  dropped  my  notes  at  the  door  of  the 
hall  in  the  dark,  and  when  they  were  recovered  only  a 
part  of  them  were  discovered,  and  they  were  tail  end 
foremost  and  inside  out. 

Once  in  Glasgow  it  was  my  ill-fortune  to  be  the  last 
on  a  long  list  of  speakers  at  a  large  public  meeting. 
Hours  passed  and  speakers  spoke  until  it  seemed  to  me 
that  it  would  be  wise  in  me  to  beg  off  for  both  my  own 
sake  and  for  the  sake  of  the  audience.  I  sent  a  note  to 
the  chairman  to  that  effect,  and  he  (William  Graham, 
M.P.)  replied  in  pencil  as  follows  :  "  My  impression  ie 
that  the  whole  audience,  or  very  nearly  so,  will  remain  for 
your  address,  and  we  should  greatly  regret  its  omission. 
Scotch  audiences  can  take  a  great  deal  of  matter. — W.  G." 
I  was  left  to  my  own  judgment  and — vanity.  I  spoke, 


A  TALK   ABOUT   AUDIENCES.  128 

but  my  judgment  had  enough  control  over  my  vanity  to 
make  me  brief.  The  weary  audience  applauded  my  con- 
sideration for  them. 

These  experiences  will  serve  to  show  what  a  train, 
ing  you  who  are  going  to  be  public  speakers  need  in 
the  use  of  the  will,  in  self-reliance  and  self-possession, 
in  general  ship,  in  tact,  in  knowing  what  you  are 
about. 

Audiences  in  Great  Britain  give  a  better  average 
attention  than  those  of  ours,  but  ours  are  superior  in  ex- 
ceptional attention.  Ours  are  quicker  and 
more  responsive  toward  what  they  regard  Theirs  for  Av- 
as  clever  or  a  "good  thing;"  theirs  are  e^'e°tj^ijj>r 
better  for  the  dead  level  of  public  listen-  Attention, 
ing.  In  the  old  country  there  is  a  more 
uniform  and  decorous,  in  ours  a  more  inconstant  and  ani- 
mated attention.  There  you  are  always  sure,  in  the  first 
place,  of  an  audience,  and,  in  the  second  place,  of  atten- 
tion. "Whether  lively  or  dull,  attention  nevertheless  it 
is.  You  have  their  eyes,  which  are  not  so  easy  to  gather 
and  hold  in  our  country.  You  have  not  the  constant 
dread  there  of  losing  your  hold,  which  dread  and  appre- 
hension saps  your  composure  in  the  land  of  free  eyes 
and  stiff  knees.  The  audience  helps  you,  because  they 
feel  under  obligation  to  the  occasion  as  well  as  to  you. 
It  is  their  opportunity  as  well  as  yours.  They  share  the 
place  and  time  and  object  with  you.  They  may  not  be 
deeply  interested,  and  it  may  be  impossible  to  rouse  them 
deeply,  but  they  will  look  at  you,  and  sit  still,  and  greet 
you  and  your  points  with  the  conventional  applause. 
You  have  no  concern  about  their  corporeal  fair  play,  to 
say  the  least ;  that  they  count  due  to  civility,  to 
decorum,  to  themselves  if  not  to  you,  and  that  answers 
your  purpose. 


124  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

Their  lecture  audiences  are  perceptibly  below  ours  in 
intelligence,  but  excel  ours  in  that  decorous  long-suffer- 
ing which  is  so  valuable  to  the  speaker,  whether  preacher 
or  lecturer. 

Audiences    in    England    outside  of  the   Established 

Church   are   weeded.      To   an    American    lecturer    or 

preacher  they   have   a   picked-over    ap- 

ic  e  -over      pearance>      The  church  takes  the  cream, 

Audiences.        r  •••«••  ,-, 

the  chapel  the  milk  01  society.  Car- 
riages at  the  chapel  door  are  stared  at.  "  Carriage 
people  "  is  an  English  phrase,  and  such  people  are  a  sort 
of  caste  dependent  upon,  not  their  ancestry,  but  their 
wheels  for  their  elevation.  The  shopkeeper  holds  them 
in  reverence,  the  chapel-keeper  drops  his  head  as  they 
pass.  A  deacon,  speaking  of  a  lady  that  he  wished  me 
to  meet,  took  pains  to  repeat  that  she  is  a  "  carriage 
lady."  She  absolutely  rides  in  a  one-horse  carriage  to  a 
Congregational  chapel  ! 

We  recall  Pepys's  diary,  in  which  he  records  how  he 
"  went  abroad  with  his  wife  the  first  time  he  ever  rode 
in  a  coach,"  and  how  he  "  prayed  God  to  bless  and  con- 
tinue to  him  "  this  inestimable  English  boon  and  boom. 
It  is  noteworthy,  too,  that  Pepys  ordered  his  coachman, 
on  the  first  Sunday  of  the  coach's  existence,  to  drop  him 
at  the  door  of  the  church  instead  of  at  the  door  of  the 
chapel,  where  he  had  been  accustomed  to  worship  God 
on  foot.  Nor  can  we  overlook  so  recent  an  incident  of 
a  similar  nature  to  be  found  in  the  diary  of  the  late  Lord 
Macaulay,  who  has  transmitted  it  thus :  "  January  16th, 
1851. — At  half-past  seven  the  brougham  came,  and  1 
went  in  it  to  dine  at  Lord  John  Russell's,  pleased  and 
proud.  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  had  a  carriage  of 
my  own,  except  when  in  office." 

The    popular   audience   in   England   begins  with   the 


A  TALK   ABOUT    AUDIENCES.  125 

middle  of  the  middle  class,  and  goes  on  down  to  the 
upper  working  class.  The  nobility  of  England  would 
rather  shoot  pigeons  than  hear  Huxley.  It  would  be 
impossible  10  parallel  Mr.  Spurgeon's  congregation  in  the 
United  States,  except  so  far  as  the  United  States  fill  his 
pews.  There  is  no  such  unmixed  classification  outside 
of  a  very  few  churches  in  a  very  few  great  cities,  and 
they  are  called  "  mission  churches." 

But  if  this  is  a  bad  side  of  a  class  form  of  society  (and 
upon  that  question  we  say  nothing),  there  is  what  every- 
body will  admit  is  a  good  side  to  it.  It  creates  a  conven- 
tional decorum  and  reverence  that  are  difficult  to  secure 
without  it,  and  that  tell  strongly  and  helpfully  for  the 
public  speaker. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  from  this  social  situation,  with 
its  evils  and  blessings,  why  audiences  are  more  easily 
obtained  and  more  easily  held,  when  obtained,  in  Eng- 
land than  in  this  country.  Put  together  the  lower 
average  of  intelligence  and  the  higher  average  of  rev- 
erence, and  you  have  the  solution.  The  standard  of 
preaching  and  all  other  public  speaking  is  lower,  and  the 
standard  of  hearing  higher.  There  is  more  regard  for 
the  forms  of  worship  and  all  other  public  forms,  as  there 
is  for  the  formalities  and  civilities  of  social  life,  and  less 
of  querulous  and  restless  impatience  with  public  servants, 
whether  in  the  pulpit,  on  the  stump,  in  the  lecture-room, 
or  on  "  the  government  bench. ' '  An  omnibus-driver  said 
to  me  :  "  Fact  is,  none  of  us  drivers  need  be  afraid  of 
losing  our  places,  if  we  only  keep  sober  and  use  our 
horses  well."  He  had  been  on  the  box  thirteen  years  ; 
others  I  know  have  been  there  for  twenty  years.  It  is 
just  as  easy  for  the  lecturer,  or  professor,  or  preacher 
to  stay  thirteen  or  twenty  years.  They  need  not  be 
afraid  of  losing  their  places  if  they  keep  sober  and  know 


126  BEFORE   AH"  AUDIENCE. 

how  to  hold  their  horses  and  their  tongues  ;  and  that  is 
to  be  done  only  by  the  exercise  of  the  will. 

The  pre-eminent  preacher,  who  reigns  over  his  Board 
of  Wearers  and  Tearers  by  sheer  popularity  with  the  pews, 
is  just  as  much  respected  here  as  he  is  there,  but  the  great 
mass  of  undistinguished  usefulness  has  a  foothold  there 
that  it  has  not  attained  in  our  country.  Mediocrity  draws 
as  large  a  congregation  there  as  superiority  with  us,  while 
men  who  have  extraordinary  congregations  there  would 
never  rise  to  the  first  place  in  America.  Criticism  of 
sermons,  as  compared  with  our  attainments  in  that  de- 
partment of  human  progress,  is  at  a  very  low  ebb,  a  very 
low  ebb  indeed. 

Make  a  study  of  audiences.     It  is  quite  the  fashion,  I 

observe,  to  suppose,  or  at  least  to  insinuate,  that  lawyers 

are  the  only  public  speakers  who  should 

Reading  the      make  a  laborious  and   constant  study  of 
Human   Nature    ,  .,  ,.    ' 

of  Audiences      human  nature  as  it  appears  in  audiences. 

This  is  preposterous.  There  is  no  public 
speaker  whose  success  does  not  depend  upon  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  human  countenance  and  the  human  disposi- 
tion, and  his  ability  to  read  the  latter  by  means  of  the 
former.  Juries  may  not  be,  technically  speaking,  audi- 
ences, but  audiences  are  invariably  juries.  They  are  to 
be  confirmed  in  their  opinions,  if  not  converted  to  new 
ones,  or,  if  they  are  simply  to  be  informed  or  entertained, 
they  must  be  conciliated,  for  if  they  are  not  conciliated 
they  are  alienated.  They  are  very  apt  to  take  either  one 
of  these  attitudes  toward  the  speaker. 

Whether  the  lecturer  teaches  or  simply  amuses,  he 
must  look  upon  his  audience  as  a  jury  to  be  carried  and 
held,  while  a  preacher  who  loses  sight  of  this  fact  is  sure 
to  be  lost  sight  of  by  his  congregation. 

In  fact,  the  traits,  not  to  say  tricks,  that  are  so  warmly 


A  TALK   ABOUT   AUDIENCES.  127 

commended  in  a  successful  attorney  are  precisely  those 
which  inhere  in  all  public  speaking.  One  of  Lord 
Abinger's  methods  with  a  jury,  it  is  said,  "  consisted  in 
closely  scrutinizing  the  faces  of  the  twelve  men  in  the 
jury-box.  If  discovering,  as  could  often  be  done,  that 
some  one  of  them  was  distinctly  superior  to  the  rest  in  in- 
telligence and  other  qualities  which  influence  common 
men,  to  this  person,  when  addressing  the  jury,  he  espe- 
cially directed  his  eye  and  speech,  winning  the  good- 
will of  the  flattered  juryman,  and  through  him  the  ver- 
dict sought  for." 

The  same  closeness  of  scrutiny  of  the  faces  of  the  one 
hundred  or  one  thousand  in  the  audience  boxvwill  yield 
the  same  result,  and  a  similar  method  with  the 
u  superior  "  faces  in  a  public  congregation  will  produce 
a  precisely  similar  result.  The  Duke  of  Wellington 
said  :  ' '  When  Scarlett  is  addressing  a  jury  there  are 
thirteen  jurymen."  When  any  speaker  is  addressing 
any  audience  of  a  hundred  and  seventy-two,  there  ought 
to  be  a  hundred  and  seventy-three  auditors.  There  is 
nothing  in  Scarlett's  method  with  a  jury,  when  the  other 
side  had  a  strong  case,  that  does  not  apply  with  equal 
force  in  the  discussion  of  any  public  question  that  divides 
public  opinion  where  your  opponent  has  the  advantage 
of  you  in  a  matter  of  fact  or  of  theory.  "  I  avoided  all 
appearance  of  confidence,  and  endeavored  to  place  the 
reasoning  on  my  part  in  the  clearest  and  strongest  view, 
and  to  weaken  that  of  my  adversary  ;  to  show  that  the 
facts  for  the  plaintiff  would  lead  naturally  but  to  one 
conclusion,  while  those  of  the  defendant  might  be  ac- 
counted for  on  other  hypotheses  ;  and  when  I  thought  I 
had  gained  my  point,  I  left  it  to  the  candor  and  good 
sense  of  the  jury  to  draw  their  own  conclusion.  This 
course  seems  to  me  not  to  be  the  result  of  any  consum- 


128  BEFORE   AN    AUDIENCE. 

mate  art,  bnt  the  plain  and  natural  course  which  good 
sense  would  dictate." 

What  is  here  called  good  sense  is  only  another  name 
for  the  good  judgment,  tact,  rhetorical  adroitness,  per- 
sonal address  which  I  have  insisted  upon,  but  which 
is,  as  a  rule,  the  result  of  consummate  art,  and  certainly 
was  the  result  of  consummate  art  in  the  case  of  Lord 
Abinger.  It  is  a  "  consummate  art  "  to  "  avoid  all  ap- 
pearance of  confidence"  before  a  jury  or  an  audience. 
It  is  the  art  of  being  natural.  It  is  the  common -sense 
that  comes  of  uncommon  training.  "  Scrutiny  of  faces" 
Is  susceptible  of  indefinite  improvement.  It  requires 
experience  and  consciousness,  and  knowing  what  you  are 
about,  and  the  use  of  the  will.  It  is  impossible  to  those 
who  forget  themselves  and  think  only  of  their  subject, 
or  to  those  who  expect  to  acquire  the  art  of  reading 
human  nature  in  human  faces  by  acquiring  the  emphasis 
of  Marc  Antony's  oration  over  the  royal  corpse  of  Julius 
Caesar. 

This  observation  and  study  of  audiences  is  all  the  more 
necessary  for  the  speaker  because  of  the  difficulty  he  has 
in  discerning  the  opinion  of  his  audience  with  reference 
to  himself . 

The  speaker  must  learn  to  read  faces  in  an  audience 
for  the  very  good  reason  that  that  is  about  his  only  op- 
portunity for  knowing  what  his  audience  thinks  of  him 
and  his  method.  A  preacher  may  spend  a  lifetime  with 
the  same  congregation  in  utter  ignorance  of  exactly  what 
they  think  of  his  discourses.  They  will  not  speak,  and 
he  dare  not  ask  ;  nor  is  the  newspaper  report  to  be 
depended  upon.  It  is  never  written  by  an  audience. 
It  is  written  sometimes  by  indifference,  sometimes  by 
malice,  and  sometimes  by  gush.  "  The  other  side"  can 
see  nothing  in  it,  our  side  sees  in_it  "  the  greatest  effort 


A  TALK   ABOUT   AUDIENCES.  129 

of  his  life,"  and  the  considerate  pew-holder  tells  his 
parson  to  his  face  that  the  "  supply  "  preached  "the 
greatest  sermon  he  had  ever  heard. ' '  Sometimes  one's 
miserable  failure  appears  in  the  paper,  under  the  manip- 
ulation of  a  judicious  friend,  as  a  rare  triumph  of  elo- 
quence, while  few  sermons  or  lectures  escape,  in  the 
atmosphere  of  self-interest  or  the  town  interest,  from 
being  "masterly,"  or  the  "ablest"  thing  of  the  kind 
ever  known  in  that  community.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  exceptions,  very  marked  exceptions,  when  the 
report  is  prepared  by  absent  indifference,  or  stupidity 
that  was  present,  or  malice  that  might  have  been  either 
absent  or  present.  You  had  one  of  those  rare  seasons 
of  exaltation  and  exultation  which  occasionally  come  to 
the  public  speaker  who  works  hard  at  his  art,  and  strives 
to  excel  in  it.  You  were  carried  out  of  yourself,  and 
carried  your  audience  out  of  themselves,  and  when  you 
all  got  back  to  yourselves,  and  congratulated  yourselves 
on  your  paroxysm  of  ecstasy,  you  had  a  glass  of  very 
cold  water  thrown  in  your  faces  in  the  shape  of  the  little 
reporter's  little  report.  The  little  reporter  said  in  his 
little  report  that  you  delivered  rather  an  interesting  dis- 
course on  the  whole,  and  it  seemed,  so  far  as  he  could 
learn,  that  it  gave  general  satisfaction  to  a  large  extent. 
Whew  !  The  consequence  is  that  the  hearer's  opinion 
will  be  modified  by  the  little  reporter's  report.  He 
will  say  :  Why,  was  that  the  sermon  I  was  so  excited 
over  ?  I  was  evidently  mistaken. 

You  see,  then,  how  necessary  it  is  that  the  speaker 
should  train  himself  to  judge  for  himself  as  to  how  he  is 
getting  on  with  his  audience.  By  this  means  he  will 
learn,  too,  how  long  he  is  to  speak,  and  with  what  method 
of  discourse — another  way  of  both  training  and  using 
the  judgment  and  tact  so  essential  in  the  art  of  public 


130  BEFORE    A.N   AUDIENCE. 

speaking.  "  To  make  a  speech  is  a  knack  ;"  to  read  an 
audience  is  another  knack. 

The  audience  which  receives  with  apathy  the  lecture 
or  sermon  which  another  audience  applauded  is  apt  to 
irritate  the  speaker.  It  seems  so  unreasonable,  and  is  so 
unexpected.  Nevertheless,  nothing  is  to  be  gained  and 
everything  to  be  lost  by  betraying  your  chagrin.  Keep 
it  to  yourself.  Make  the  best  of  a  bad  audience.  The 
solution  of  the  enigma  lies  in  some  atmospheric  or  mes- 
meric conditions  which  are  beyond  the  reach  of  science, 
and  you  may  as  well  give  it  up  first  as  last.  Grin  and 
bear  it,  and  try  it  again. 

Never  show  annoyance  before  an  audience.  Preachers 
have  lost  their  pulpits,  lawyers  their  cases,  and  lecturers 
their  second  invitation  in  consequence  of  speaking  unad- 
visedly with  their  lips.  "  Little  boy,"  said  the  preacher, 
"  if  you  don't  stop  see-sawing  your  head  I'll  come  down 
there  and  cut  it  oif . ' '  He  wished  one  minute  after,  and 
has  wished  all  his  life  since,  that  he  had  allowed  the 
youngster  to  see-saw  to  his  head's  content.  Better  that 
the  boy  should  kill  the  sermon  than  the  preacher  should 
kill  himself.  The  teeth  of  one  lecturer  were  set  on  edge 
by  the  interruptions  of  an  inebriated  hearer,  and  the 
audience  applauded  the  lecturer.  But  the  lecturer,  not 
content  with  his  victory,  alluded  again  and  still  again  to 
the  interruption  long  after  it  had  ceased,  and  the  audi- 
ence turned  against  the  lecturer,  who  was  finally  hissed. 

Never  put  yourself  in  the  wrong  with  an  audience. 

It  has  every  advantage  of  you.     It  has  many  heads  to 

your  one.     Keep  your  audience  on  your 

'  °^u  *r    ec      side  in  every  case  of  speaker  vs.  some  one 

tunng.  • 

hearer.    This  is  where  the  speaker  needs 
self-restraint  and  tact. 

What  do  you  think  of  popnlar  lecturing  as  a  business 


A  TALK   ABOUT   AUDIENCES.  131 

or  profession  ?  I  see  it  is  sometimes  described  by  a 
newspaper  as  "  played  out." 

Yes,  occasionally  a  newspaper  says,  in  its  haste,  "  lec- 
turing is  played  out,"  and  yet  in  that  very  issue  there 
may  be  advertisements  of  three  or  four  courses  of  lectures 
in  full  blast  and  paying  well.  Boston,  New  York,  and 
Philadelphia  average  about  one  hundred  lectures  each  a 
year.  There  were  more  lectures  delivered  last  season 
in  this  country  than  during  any  previous  season — prob- 
ably three  thousand  in  all. 

"  Played  out' '  is  the  cynic's  cant.  Lecturing  is  played 
out  just  as  newspapering  is  played  out,  or  wall-papering, 
or  school-teaching,  or  M.D.-ing,  or  preaching,  or  law- 
yering — some  of  those  who  are  engaged  in  it  have  played 
out,  or  are  playing  out,  or  will  play  out.  That  is  all 
there  is  of  that. 

If  any  branch  of  human  industry  is  indestructible,  it  is 
public  speaking  ;  and  no  branch  of  public  speaking  is  less 
likely  to  become  extinct,  while  the  human  epiglottis  sur- 
vives, than  lecturing.  It  is  the  oldest  method  of  public 
instruction,  and  if  any  method  of  public  instruction  be- 
comes extinct,  it  will  not  be  lecturing.  It  is  far  more 
likely  to  be  competitive  cramming,  or  the  wonderful 
"  marking  system."  The  university  grew  out  of  the 
lecture,  and  continues  to  be  dependent  upon  it.  Law, 
medicine,  theology,  science,  and  philosophy  are  taught 
by  means  of  it,  because  it  is  the  best  means  of  teaching 
them. 

There  are  136  lecturers  at  Munich  and  118  at  Gottin- 
gen. 

What  is  known  as  "  popular  lecturing  "  is  the  same 
thing  with  a  difference,  as  this  most  ancient,  and  most 
powerful,  and  most  satisfactory  of  all  the  methods  of 
public  education.  It  degenerates,  of  course,  into  mere 


132  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

amusement  on  the  one  side,  and  evaporates  into  mere 
mist  and  fog  on  the  other,  and  therefore  gets  itself 
sneered  at  by  some  for  being  frivolous,  and  laughed  at 
by  others  for  being  metaphysical,  and  described  by  all  as 
"  played  out." 

Why,  even  bad  lecturing  is  not  played  out.  The 
shallowest  sham  succeeds  in  this,  as  in  every  other  de- 
partment of  North  American  ingenuity.  So  does  the 
flattest  kind  of  humor.  A  notoriety  in  any  other  walk 
of  life  draws  and  pays  in  this.  A  veteran  politician 
whose  political  luck  has  "  retired  "  him,  a  coiner  of  jests 
in  bad  spelling,  or  an  aesthete  and  his  two  calves,  will 
find  the  towns  so  numerous,  and  public  curiosity  so 
curious,  that  he  can  lay  up  quite  a  snug  sum  before  he 
is  found  out.  Once  round  and  he  is  in  funds.  Once 
round  takes,  say,  about  five  years,  and  three  thousand 
dollars  a  year  would  be  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 

Our  esteemed  contemporaries  may  set  it  down  for  a 
fact  that  the  lecture  business,  like  the  newspaper  busi- 
ness, is  largely  dependent  upon  its  management.  When 
that  plays  out,  in  either  department,  "all  is  lost  except 
honor."  But  if  either  can  run  without  management,  it 
is  not  the  newspaper.  For,  come  what  may,  the  art  of 
the  lecturer  is  absolutely  indestructible. 


IX. 

HOW  TO    THINK  OF  SOMETHING    TO  SAY. 

THE  public  speaker  can  have  no  more  faithful  self- 
discipline  than  that  which  comes  of  his  thinking  of 
something  to  say  to  his  audience.  It  is  not  thinking  of 
something  to  say  in  a  book  or  an  essay,  in  a  magazine 
or  newspaper  article,  it  is  thinking  of  something  suitable 
and  effective  to  say  when  you  get  upon  your  legs  before 
an  audience.  Nor  does  it  matter  whether  you  are  going 
to  write  down  what  you  have  thought  out  and  commit  it, 
or  whether  you  intend  to  write  and  read,  or  whether  your 
plan  is  to  make  your  speech  out  of  what  you  have 
thought  of  beforehand  and  what  you  will  think  of  on  the 
occasion.  It  is  the  great  faculty  of  improvisation  which 
Quintilian  makes  so  much  of,  and  which  is  one  of  the 
most  useful  and  fruitful  faculties  a  public  speaker  can 
bring  into  subjection  to  his  will.  It  is  the  art  of  extem- 
pore thinking  as  well  as  speaking. 

As  the  public  speaker  should  always  be   Always  Think- 

a  student  in  public  speaking,  he  will  al-    ing  in  Private 

,  i        -.LI      n  !_•        MI  of  Something 

ways  be  at  work  with  all  his  will,  energy,    to  s     in  Pub_ 

and  memory,  and  his  ear  for  rhetoric  and  HC. 

elocution,  improvising  and  extemporiz- 
ing ;  he  will  always  be  thinking  of  something  to  say 
to  the  audience  or  audiences  which  he  expects  to  address. 
An  editorial  friend  says  :  "I  never  come  upon  a 
thought,  fact,  or  incident  without  asking  myself  how  I 
can  get  an  article  out  of  it. "  The  speaker  asks  :  How 


134  BEFORE  AH  AUDIENCE. 

shall  1  utilize  it  for  my  audience  ?  He  should  be  the 
most  alert-minded  man  in  the  world.  He  should  get 
into  the  habit  of  picking  up  something  from  everybody, 
and  everything  and  everywhere.  A  robin  should  not  be 
more  indefatigable  in  gathering  insects  for  her  young. 
He  should  have  the  Dickens  eye  for  seeing  everything, 
and  the  Dickens  knack  for  turning  everything  to  ac- 
count. 

He  will  say  :  Here  is  an  incident.  I'll  tell  it  to  my 
audience,  but  first  I'll  tell  it  to  myself.  So  he  goes  over 
it  mentally,  silently,  thoughtfully.  He  tells  it  to  him- 
self in  the  very  best  words  he  can  command.  He  seeks 
to  make  a  gem  of  effective  simplicity  out  of  it,  a  bit  of 
good  painting  done  at  a  stroke  or  two.  It  is  this  doing 
your  narrative  or  descriptive  at  a  dash  or  two  that  tells, 
and  it  is  this  that  you  learn  how  to  do  in  learning  how 
to  think  of  something  to  say.  The  more  you  do  at  it  in 
this  conscious,  disciplinary  way,  the  sooner  it  will  come 
easy  and  the  easier  it  will  become. 

The  memory  gets  its  culture  out  of  this  rehearsal.  I 
repeat  that  the  best  improvisations  are  improvised  be- 
forehand. The  best  impromptu  speeches  are  committed 
to  memory.  The  difficulty  is  to  remember  the  something 
that  you  have  thought  of  to  say.  The  premeditated 
felicity  cannot  be  recalled  on  the  occasion  of  the  ad- 
dress. Thackeray  thought  of  his  best  things  in  the  cab 
on  his  way  home  from  his  speech,  during  which  he  could 
not  recall  them  to  save  his  life.  My  latest  failure  in  this 
line  of  human  endeavor  is  so  recent  as  to  be  still  poig- 
nant. I  could  hardly  have  made  such  a  fist  of  my  part 
at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone,  if  I  had  had  laid  in  me 
the  corner-stone  which  I  am  trying  to  lay  in  the  com- 
ing public  speakers.  This  exacting  and  unremitting  self- 
discipline  in  learning  how  to  think  of  something  to  say 


HOW  TO  THINK   OP  SOMETHING  TO  SAT.  135 

will  prevent  this  failure  of  memory,  if  anything  will. 
It  is  a  training  that  includes  the  memory  as  well  as  the 
will,  the  judgment,  and  the  ear  for  rhetoric. 

You  will  have  this  thinking  habit  in  action  while  you 
are  listening  to  other  speakers.     You  will 
note  their  vocabulary,  their  illustrations,      Thinking  for 
what  takes  and  what 'falls  flat.     You  may    Yourself  while 
v  •     j   j      fi   j  j.u       AI.  Listening  to 

be  surprised  to  nnd  that  there  are  some         others. 

admirable  and  handy  words  which  you 
never  use,  and  some  forms  of  public  address  which  you 
have  never  tried.  This  is  not  "  forgetting  yourself,  and 
thinking  only  of  your  subject."  This  is  the  thinking  of 
yourself  which  gives  you  power  over  yourself.  Forget 
anybody  but  yourself,  your  best  self,  the  self  which  the 
Prodigal  Son  came  to  when  he  came  to  himself,  and  which 
every  man  must  come  to  if  he  would  come  to  anything. 
Remember  only  to  get  rid  of  your  other  self,  your  self  of 
silly  bumptiousness,  your  flap-and-crow  oratorical  vanity, 
and  all  that  species  of  consciousness  which  is  always  put- 
ing  in  its  thumb  and  pulling  out  its  plum,  and  saying, 
What  a  great  man  am  I !  The  serious  and  conscientious 
public  speaker,  who  is  under  training  for  his  art,  despises 
all  that  sort  of  consciousness,  and  rolls  it  as  a  sweet  mor- 
sel under  his — feet.  Forget  anybody  but  yourself,  but 
forget  nobody.  Remember  everybody.  In  thinking  of 
something  to  say  to  your  hearers,  think  especially  of  your 
hearers. 

Thinking  of  the  audience  is  indispensa-      Thinking  of 

ble  in  learning  how  to  address  it— with     ^f  ^ience 
6  .  while  Thinking 

what  method  and  rhetoric.  of  Something 

"  He  was  tedious. "     That  was  because      to  Say  to  It. 
he  "  forgot   himself,  and   thought   only 
of  his  subject."     In  forgetting  himself  he  forgot  his 
hearers,  or  he  woultf  not  have  closed  their  eare  with 


136  BEFORE   AN  AUDIENCE. 

weariness.  Nor  could  it  be  complained  that  "  he  fires 
over  their  heads,"  if  he  did  not  forget  them  in  for- 
getting himself.  Self-discipline  and  training  would 
have  taught  him  that  firing  over  their  heads  will  never 
win  their  hearts.  Moreover,  the  method  is  no  com- 
pliment to  the  man  who  resorts  to  it.  Nothing  is 
easier  than  to  bamboozle  an  audience  with  the  vocabu- 
lary of  books  which  they  never  read  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  "  how  much  learning  it  requires  to  make  these 
things  plain."  Here  is  where  education  gets  its  raps, 
and  deserves  them.  "When  one  of  the  "  self-made  "  hits 
the  mark,  and  one  of  the  "  educated  "  hits  only  the  tar- 
get, there  is  a  hurrah  for  the  self-made  and  a  groan  for 
education.  Self-made  thought  of  his  audience,  Educa- 
tion thought  only  of  his  subject.  Consciousness  of  the 
audience  is  indispensable  to  the  right  treatment  of  the 
subject.  Why  prepare  sermons  for  the  other  man's  con- 
gregation ? 

This  rigid,  exacting,  and  unremitting  discipline  bears 
fruit  when  the  speaker  is  detailed  to  make 
A  Short  Speech   a  gl;iOrt  ^QQQ^  at  short  notice.     A  better 
at  Short  No-  -,      •>  ,j       .  i 

tice  opportunity  he  could  not  have  or  a  more 

valuable  lesson  in  his  difficult  art. 

He  is  the  rare  speaker  who  knows  how  to  hit  the  pur- 
pose of  the  occasion  in  a  brief  speech.  The  best  of 
orators  and  advocates  fail  here.  All  of  us  have  time  to 
make  a  long  sermon  ;  few  have  time,  or  will  take 
time,  to  make  a  short  one.  Any  one  might  make  the 
ten-minutes'  speech,  if  he  were  allowed  ten  minutes  in 
which  to  get  under  way.  But  to  throw  it  off  without 
prelude  or  apology  or  hesitation — this  is  just  one  of  those 
attainments  in  the  art  of  being  natural  which  is  as  un- 
usual as  the  discipline  and  training  that  compass  it. 

But   we  should  sometimes  leave  our  speech  to  the 


HOW  TO  THINK   OF  SOMETHING  TO   SAY.  137 

occasion,  or  what  is  called  ' f  the  inspiration  of  the  mo- 
ment," should  we  not  ? 

Of  course  you  may  have  to  ;  but  suppose  the  occasion 
fails  to  inspire,  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  so  contrary  as  to 
take  away  your  speech  instead  of  giving  you  one  ?  To 
provide  against  this  contingency  is  the  object  of  the  dis- 
cipline and  training  that  come  of  thinking  of  something 
to  say.  Furthermore,  this  training  is  indispensable,  if 
we  would  know  how  to  make  the  most  of  the  occasion, 
whether  inspiring  or  dispiriting.  The  more  there  has 
been  of  this  mental  preparation  for  the  occasion,  and  for 
all  similar  occasions,  the  more  the  occasion  will  yield  in 
the  way  of  inspiration  and  suggestion. 

Will  not  the  audience  compel  us  to  think  of  something 
to  say  when  we  stand  before  it  ?  Yes.  A  man  whom 
no  conversation  can  get  a  word  out  of  will  be  voluble 
before  an  audience.  Some  men  think  of  nothing  except 
when  they  get  upon  their  legs  to  speak,  and  in  the  case 
of  some  they  think  of  nothing  then.  It  is  a  knack  to 
make  a  taking  speech  with  nothing  in  it. 

But  the  audience  disconcerts  the  diffident  and  em- 
boldens the  bold.  It  will  fill  the  mouth  of  the  conceited, 
and  tie  the  tongue  of  the  modest.  The  most  experienced 
of  speakers  suffer  from  audience  fright.  There  is  no 
better  remedy  for  this  than  the  habit  of  keeping  your 
hearers  in  mind  while  you  are  thinking  of  something  to 
say  to  them.  To  realize  their  presence  by  an  effort  of 
the  imagination  is  to  fortify  against  their  faces  in  the 
flesh. 

One  of  our  Commencement  orators  said  to  me  while 
his  predecessor  was  speaking  :  "  I  am  shaking  in  my 
shoes  ;  how  shall  I  get  over  my  nervousness  ?"  Summon 
your  conceit,  your  sense  of  superiority  to  the  mass  of 
towns-people,  pretty  girls  and  their  undergraduates,  who 


138  BEFORE  AN   AUDIENCE. 

make  up  the  audience.  Look  them  square  in  the  face, 
and  say  to  yourself,  and  say  it  resolutely  :  "  I  will  not 
be  put  down."  That  mental  action  will  hold  you  up. 

The  student  did  indeed  think  of  the  audience,  but  he 
thought  too  highly  of  it.  He  overestimated  its  intelli- 
gence. He  did  indeed  think  of  himself,  but  he  thought 
too  modestly  of  himself.  He  is  that  uncommon  kind 
of  student.  He  underestimated  his  ability  to  cope  with 
the  undergraduates  and  their  parents.  His  panic  came, 
after  all,  of  not  thinking  correctly  of  himself  and  his 
audience.  The  audience  capitulated  as  soon  as  he 
showed  that  he  considered  himself  its  master.  This  lion 
in  our  path  will  lower  his  tail,  if  we  only  look  him  in  the 
eye. 

And  it  is  this  looking  an  audience  in  the  eye  that  the 
young  speaker  needs  to  practise.  There  is  no  substitute 
for  it. 

"  Don't  do  your  practising  on  an  audience,"  an  old 

preacher  tells  the  young  preachers.     On 
Learn  to  Face     whom  ^^  th      do  their  practising  fl^n 
an  Audience  by    ,,.,,.          ,        0     m, A       ,  ,  ,    ' 

Facing  it        their   looking-glass  «     Ihe   old   preacher 

practised  on  an  "  imaginary  audience." 
But  a  real  audience  is  the  best.  The  realer  the  young 
speaker  makes  his  audience  the  realer  he  will  be  himself, 
his  subject,  his  delivery,  his  object  and  all.  You  will 
never  learn  how  to  think  and  speak  and  behave  before 
an  audience  of  men  and  women  by  practising  before  an 
audience  of  bedposts  or  apple-trees. 

Few  have  the  industry  for  this  unreal  rehearsal  work. 
We  are  all  as  lazy  as  circumstances  will  permit.  We  do 
only  what  we  are  compelled  to  do.  You  must  put  your- 
self under  the  necessity  of  making  a  real  speech  to  a  real 
audience.  Besides,  the  real  audience  awakens  and  flatters 
the  ambition  as  nothing  else  does  or  can.  If  the  speech 


HOW  TO  THINK   OF   SOMETHING  TO   SAT.  139 

is  not  made  in  public  it  is  not  public  speaking,  and  pub- 
lic speaking  is  what  you  are  trying  to  learn. 

A  setter  of  the  preachers  to  rights  says  :  "  The  prin- 
ciples of  the  art  of  oral  address  should  have  been  mastered 
by  the  preacher  before  he  has  authority  to  enter  the 
pulpit."  As  well  say  the  principles  of  the  art  of  mas- 
tication should  be  mastered  before  the  boy  is  allowed  to 
eat.  There  are  no  principles  of  the  art  of  oral  address 
aside  from  the  oral  address  itself.  To  separate  the  prin- 
ciples from  the  practice  is  to  make  both  useless. 
"  Grammar  was  made  after  language,  and  therefore  ought 
to  be  taught  after  language. ' '  Elocution  was  made  with 
language  ;  it  should  be  taught,  not  before  or  after,  but 
with  the  language,  the  very  language  we  use  in  speak- 
ing, not  the  language  of  another  on  another  occasion. 

Did  not  Demosthenes  practice  in  a  cave  ?  Yes,  but 
that  was  with  gravel  in  his  mouth,  to  cure  an  impediment 
of  speech.  If  you  have  a  defect  that  requires  gravel  in 
the  mouth,  by  all  means  do  your  practising  in  a  cave  ;  and 
if  you  are  taking  lessons  in  instrumental  music  at  the 
same  time,  take  your  piano  with  you. 

Carlyle  was  about  right  when  he  said  :  "  The  public 
speaker  is  as  the  ass  whom  you  took  and  cast  headlong 
into  the  water.  The  water  at  first  threatens  to  swallow 
him,  but  he  finds  to  his  astonishment  that  he  can  swim 
therein,  that  it  is  buoyant  and  bears  him  along.  One  sole 
condition  is  indispensable — audacity,  vulgarly  called  im- 
pudence. Our  donkey  must  commit  himself  to  his 
watery  element,  in  free  daring  strike  forth  his  four  limbs 
from  him.  Then  shall  he  not  drown  and  sink,  but  shoot 
gloriously  forward  and  swim,  to  the  admiration  of  the 
bystanders.  The  ass,  safe  landed  on  the  other  bank, 
shakes  his  rough  hide,  wonder-struck  himself  at  the 
faculty  that  lay  in  him,  and  waves  joyfully  his  long  ears  J 


140  BEFORE  AN  AUDIENCE. 

So,  too,  the  public  speaker  !' '  The  great  Thomas  was  not 
much  of  a  public  speaker,  but  he  did  know  how  to  wave 
joyfully  his  long  ears.  You  will  never  learn  how  to 
behave,  or  speak,  or  think  before  an  audience  until  you 
appear  before  one.  Commit  yourself.  You  will  never 
learn  how  to  swim  unless  you  plunge  in  and  strike  out. 

Never  wait  till  the  subject  is  ripe  before  you  pluck  it. 
Pluck  it  and  ripen  it.  "While  you  are  waiting  for  it  to 
ripen,  somebody  else  will  secure  it.  Be  quick  to  not  only 
"take  a  hint,"  but  to  utilize  it.  A  suggestion  grows 
with  nursing.  You  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  rapidly 
you  acquire  knowledge  of  that  which  you  were  hereto- 
fore utterly  ignorant,  by  imparting  what  you  know  to 
others.  Teaching  teaches  the  teacher.  If  you  would 
learn  any  branch  of  knowledge,  take  a  pupil  in  it.  You 
will  many  a  time,  like  Rousseau  with  his  love  letter,  "  be- 
gin your  speech  without  knowing  what  you  are  going  to 
gay,  and  end  without  knowing  what  you  have  said,"  and 
yet  what  you  have  said  may  be  very  much  the  thing  you 
should  have  said.  Many  a  sermon  that  is  a  blank  to  its 
preacher  was  effective  with  its  hearer. 

However,  while  a  real  audience  is  the  best  audience,  it 
need  not  be  the  only  one.  An  unreal  one  by  all  means  if 
you  have  no  other,  or  are  afraid  to  face  the  other  yet. 
Rehearsal  is  as  invaluable  to  the  speaker  as  it  is  to  the 
singer  or  actor.  And  it  is  all  the  more  useful  for  being 
aloud,  or  "in  cold  blood,"  as  Walpole  said  when  he  was 
asked  by  the  Kit-kat  Club  to  rehearse  the  speech  he  in- 
tended to  make  against  the  expulsion  of  Steele  from  the 
House.  He  said  "  it  was  impossible  to  deliver  a  speech 
in  cold  blood,  but  he  would  try."  He  did  try,  and  suc- 
ceeded. He  made  a  good  speech  to  the  club,  and  a 
better  one  in  the  Commons.  Undoubtedly  the  speech 
in  the  House  was  far  better  for  having  been  rehearsed 


HOW  TO   THINK   OF  SOMETHING  TO   SAY.  141 

at  the  club.     But  the  first  audience  was  not  unreal,  it 
was  only  less  real  than  the  second. 

It  is  wonderful  how  the  simply  knowing  that  you  have 
a  speech  to  make  will  help  you  to  create 
it.  Your  trying  to  think  of  something  to  Making  a 
say  seems  fruitless.  But  you  will  find 
that  it  is  not  fruitless.  That  silent,  fruit- 
less concentration  was  concentration,  nevertheless.  You 
did  not  realize  that  it  was,  but  it  was,  and  your  speech 
or  sermon  was  the  better  for  it.  The  sudden  burst  of 
something  to  say  when  the  occasion  comes  for  it  is  the 
fruit  of  the  unpromising  and  apprehensive  effort.  The 
very  apprehension  helped.  The  apprehensive  tempera- 
ment is  like  nervousness,  bad  for  one's  happiness,  but 
good  for  one's  speaking. 

During  the  preparation  you  should  shave  yourself,  or 
read  some  in  a  well-written  book,  or.  do  an  errand  for 
your  wife,  or  make  a  call  and  have  a  chat,  or  take  a 
frolic  with  the  children.  It  is  positively  funny  to  ob- 
serve how  underneath  all  this  the  mind  is  trying  to  think 
of  something  to  say,  and  will  not  be  diverted  from  its 
purpose,  and  is  actually  assisted  by  the  diversion. 

This  importunity  of  his  work  should  be  the  preacher's 
advantage.  Two  sermons  every  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
eight  hours  constitute  quite  an  upper  and  a  nether  mill- 
stone for  grinding  something  to  say  out  of  him.  And 
yet  the  advantage  may  easily  become  a  disadvantage. 
Prodding,  while  it  quickens  some,  deadens  others.  They 
give  up  after  a  round  or  two,  and  the  rest  of  their  work 
is  the  veriest  humdrum.  Subjecting  yourself  to  the 
training  and  discipline  of  thinking  of  something  fresh 
and  appetizing  to  say  will  prevent  this  fatal  panic.  Give 
yourself  exclusively  to  thinking  of  something  to  say,  and 
you  will  have  no  time  to  think  of  how  much  you  have 


142  BEFORE   AN    AUDIENCE. 

to  say.  The  most  fertile  preachers  have  the  sense  of 
running  dry,  in  which  their  congregations  sometimes 
share. 

Putting  yourself  under  obligation  to  be  on  hand  with 
something  to  say  is  a  great  aid  in  learning  how  to  think 
of  something  to  say.  Give  your  note  for  it.  Then  be- 
stir yourself  to  raise  the  wind. 

While  you  are  thinking  of  something  to  say  you  will 
be  surprised  and  delighted  to  observe  how  every  speech 
that  you  hear,  and  every  book  that  you  pick  up,  and  every 
conversation  you  have,  and  every  newspaper  you  read 
will  contribute  something  to  your  budget  of  material. 
Then  you  must  not  fail  to  make  use  of  this  material, 
whether  exactly  to  your  liking  or  not.  Do  your  best 
with  the  best  that  comes  to  you.  When  better  comes, 
substitute  it,  but  until  it  comes  work  up  and  work  off 
the  material  you  have  on  hand.  You  will  do  better 
next  time  by  doing  your  best  this  time. 

It  is  not  necessary  while  you  are  thinking  of  something 
to  say  that  you  should  "  read  up  "  on  the  subject  of  your 
address.  You  may  not  be  able  to  find  anything  of  that 
kind  to  read.  Read  the  best  English  language  you  can 
find.  Read,  write,  and  converse  in  the  best  vocabulary 
that  comes  to  you,  and  compel  a  better  vocabulary  to 
come  to  you.  There  is  always  room  for  improvement  in 
the  words  of  our  mouths.  Reading,  writing,  and  con- 
versing with  this  under-thinking  going  on  creates  facility 
and  felicity  in  the  use  of  language  in  public.  The 
memory  becomes  charged  with  words,  images,  meta- 
phors, ideas,  and  phrases  that  press  for  utterance  under 
the  stimulus  of  the  occasion  or  the  excitement  of  ambi- 
tion. Try  it. 


THE    RIGHT    SHAPE    FOR    AN    AUDIENCE- 
ROOM. 

STJCH  paragraphs  as  these  frequently  appear  in  the 
newspapers,  and  they  contain  no  more  disheartening  or 
inexcusable  bit  of  news. 

"  There  are  at  least  a  dozen  churches,  some  in  Brooklyn, 
some  in  New  York,  some  in  Boston,  in  Springfield  and 
in  Chicago,  each  costing  over  $200,000,  that  are  utterly 
worthless  as  places  of  worship. ' ' 

"  Externally,  Tompkins  Avenue  Church  is  beautiful  to 
look  at.  It  is  cruciform  in  style,  florid  Gothic  in  design, 
and  ornamented  to  the  very  spire.  The  building  and 
furnishing  are  said  to  have  cost  a  quarter  of  a  million. 
Nobody  can  fill  the  house,  for  nobody  can  speak  in  it 
or  hear  in  it.  The  roof  looks  like  the  headquarters  of  a 
telegraph  company.  Bunches  of  telegraph-wires  run 
lengthwise  and  crosswise  of  the  church.  It  was  thought 
that  these  would  break  the  echo.  The  platform  has  been 
brought  into  the  centre  of  the  church,  and  a  screen  put 
in  the  rear  to  aid  the  sound  of  the  voice,  but  with  little 
success.  Architects  now  say  that  the  interior  of  the 
church  must  be  entirely  changed,  galleries  put  in,  floor 
raised,  ceiling  altered  ;  in  other  words,  a  new  church 
internally  must  be  constructed." 

The  late  President  Finney  said  of  the  Broadway  Taber- 
nacle :  "  The  plan  of  the  interior  of  that  house  was  my 
own.  I  had  observed  the  defects  of  churches  in  regard 


144  BEFORE    AN   AUDIENCE. 

to  sound,  and  was  sure  that  I  could  give  the  plan  of  a 
church  in  which  I  could  easily  speak  to  a  much  larger 
congregation  than  any  house  would  hold  that  I  had 
seen."  His  experience  with  the  architects  was  exactly 
like  that  described  by  those  who  planned  the  sensible 
interior  of  the  Brooklyn  Tabernacle  :  they  haughtily  re- 
fused to  sacrifice  their  sublime  art  to  the  exigencies  of 
acoustics.  "  An  architect  was  consulted,  and  I  gave 
him  my  plan.  But  he  objected  to  it,  that  it  would  not 
appear  well,  and  feared  that  it  would  injure  his  reputa- 
tion to  build  a  church  with  such  an  interior  as  that.  I 
told  him  that  if  he  would  not  build  it  on  that  plan  he 
was  not  the  man  to  superintend  its  construction  at  all. 
It  was  finally  built  in  accordance  with  my  ideas,  and  was 
a  most  comfortable  place  to  speak  in. " 

My   experience   confirms   the  popular  complaint    of 
ecclesiastical  acoustics. 

Just  before  ascending  the  pulpit  stairway  of  one  of 
these  "utterly  worthless  places"  of  pub- 
Echoes  to       lic  worship,  the  noble  martyr  of  the  place 
Right  of  Him,    £ook  me  agj(je  an(j  warned  me  against  the 
Echoes  to  Left     ..   , 

of  Him.         slightest   variation   to   the   right   or  left 

during  my  lecture.  I  must  stand  stock 
still  and  look  straight  before  me.  If  I  did  not,  if  I 
turned  one  inch  to  the  right  or  left,  I  would  hear  whis- 
pers enough  to  tell  the  secrets  of  all  mankind.  Of 
course  I  thanked  the  parson  and— did  just  what  he  told 
me  not  to  do  !  I  was  all  curiosity  to  hear  the  whispers. 
Whispers  !  If  all  the  snakes  of  all  the  Zoological  Gar- 
dens had  hissed  upon  me  then  and  there,  I  am  sure  1 
could  not  have  been  more  startled  than  I  was  by  those 
echoes  that  rushed  upon  me  from  every  direction. 

We  are  going  to  remedy  it,  and  have  been  going  to 
remedy  it  for  five  years,  and  will  be  going  to  remedy  it 


THE    EIGHT   SHAPE   FOR   AN   AUDIENCE-KOOM.        145 

for  five  or  twenty-five  years  more.  I  dare  say  it  could 
be  remedied  for  five  dollars.  How  far  should  a  preacher 
go  in  the  toleration  of  such  stumbling-blocks  ?  I  would 
rather  preach  under  a  tree,  especially  if  there  were  light 
enough  from  the  conflagration  of  that  house  of  God  to 
read  for  the  lesson  of  the  evening  :  "  Lay  aside  every 
weight,"  etc. 

Recently  I  undertook  to  deliver  a  course  of  lectures  in 
an  elegant  new  hall  which  had  just  cost  the  taxpayers 
about  $12,000,  and  was  obliged  to  succumb  to  the  snakes 
after  the  first  lecture.  Wires  were  tried  without  avail — 
a  remedy  which  has  been,  I  believe,  generally  aban- 
doned. We  had  to  quit  the  chapel  of  a  college  in 
another  town  for  the  same  reason.  A  church  which 
cost  the  hard  earnings  of  a  village  congregation  to  the 
extent  of  about  $16,000,  only  two  years  ago,  behaves  in 
the  same  way.  Fancy  the  outlook  of  that  congregation. 
Imagine  the  consequences  of  a  reputation  of  that  kind 
attached  to  a  church,  one  of  whose  wisest  members  said 
to  me  :  "  We  would  gladly  exchange  the  new  house  for 
the  old  barn  if  we  could."  In  several  towns  I  was  told 
that  the  sale  of  season  lecture  tickets  was  seriously  inter- 
fered with  by  the  inability  to  hear  in  the  hall  or  church. 
In  some  cases  the  money  had  to  be  refunded,  and  in  one 
case  at  least  the  course  came  to  an  abrupt  end,  because 
the  ticket-holders  refused  to  attend  where  it  was  so 
difficult  to  hear.  "  We  shall  not  try  it  again  until  we 
have  a  new  hall,''  says  the  president  of  the  lecture 
committee  of  one  of  the  best  lecture  towns 
in  the  State.  The  ShaPe  Re- 

The  remedy   for  the  consequences  of     ^uire     J     e 
.  ,  ,.  Laws  of  Acous- 

violating  a  natural   law  is  obedience  to  tjcs> 

that   law.      The   laws   of   acoustics  are, 

it  is  true,  not  all  easy  of  access  and  understanding  ;  but 


146  BEFORE  AN"  AUDIENCE. 

some  of  them  are.  For  example,  it  seems  evident  that 
the  sound  goes  off  from  the  speaker's  mouth  in  vibra- 
tions similar  to  the  waves  created  by  the  stone  thrown 
into  the  water — circular  if  it  can,  semi-circular  if  it  must. 
Hence  the  semi -circular,  or  horse-shoe  form  of  auditory, 
to  compel  the  vibrations  to  take  that  form  ;  and  hence 
there  should  be  nothing  to  prevent  their  taking  that 
form.  Again,  the  voice  of  the  speaker  will  fill,  or  try  to 
fill,  the  entire  space  of  the  place  in  which  he  speaks,  be 
it  small  or  large,  round  or  square  or  oblong,  high  roofed 
or  low  roofed,  whether  bristling  with  angles  and  projec- 
tions or  bounded  by  a  uniform  and  smooth  concave  sur- 
face, whether  abundant  in  alcoves  and  recesses  or  entirely 
free  from  them.  As  it  will  go  out  doors  if  you  leave 
the  doors  open,  or  through  the  roof  if  you  leave  a  hole 
in  it,  so  it  will  find  its  way  to  every  open  space  within 
the  edifice  where  wall  and  roof  and  door  prevent  its 
escape.  In  short,  the  voice  of  the  speaker,  like  the 
wind,  goeth  where  it  listeth,  and  can  only  be  prevented 
from  going  where  it  is  not  wanted  by  being  compelled 
to  go  where  it  is  wanted.  It  will  go  where  it  is  wasted 
unless  you  force  it  to  go  where  it  is  wanted.  It  is  wasted 
if  it  rambles  into  recesses  or  vestibules,  or  lofty  arches, 
or  acute  angles  of  the  church,  since  it  is  wanted  only  in 
the  pews. 

Manifestly,  then,  the  fewer  of  such  places  there  are  for 
the  speaker's  voice  to  waste  itself  in,  the  more  expedi- 
tious it  will  be  in  reaching  the  places  it  is  designed  to 
fill,  and  the  more  effective  it  will  be  when  it  does  reach 
them.  The  voice  will  scatter  much  or  little,  or  none, 
according  as  you  provide  a  place  or  places  for  it  to  scatter 
in.  Kestrain  it  to  the  place  and  space  which  contains 
your  audience. 

Again,  the  waves  of  sound  naturally  rise  as  they  paai 


THE   BIGHT   SHAPE    FOR   AN   AUDIENCE-BOOM.        147 

from  the  speaker's  mouth.     They  go  up  of  themselves, 
so  to  speak  ;  they  go  down  by  compulsion.     They  require 
little  more  than  mere  utterance  to  send 
them  above  you  ;  they  require  positive     The  Speaker 

exertion  to  send  them  below  you.     The    ?houTld  be  **"e 
,     .       ,       ,  -         n  ,.        low  Instead  of 

notes  of  the  bugle  are  heard  more  dis-       Above  the 

tinctly  on  the  tops  of  the  houses   than        Audience, 
on   the  street.       "  From   peak   to   peak 
leaps    the   live    thunder."      The    valleys   have   but    a 
faint  share  in  the  awful  reverberations.     The  pit,  or  the 
ground  floor,  is  the  worst  place  in  the  house  for  hearing 
either  the   speaker,    actor,  or  singer.     The    reason    is 
obvious.     Sound,  especially  articulate  sound,  goes  below 
its  utterer  reluctantly  and  resentfully,  but  goes  above  him 
cheerfully  and  with  alacrity. 

The  hearer  should  be  above  instead  of  below  the 
speaker.  The  seats  should  rise  as  they  recede  from  the 
rostrum  or  pulpit,  if  speaking  and  hearing  without  an 
effort  is  an  object  worth  attaining.  The  superabundance 
of  exertion  used  by  the  speaker  comes  of  his  being  obliged 
to  force  his  voice  down  the  hypothenuse  of  a  right-angle 
triangle.  He  stands  at  the  top  instead  of,  as  a  law  of 
acoustics  requires,  at  the  bottom  of  the  hypothenuse. 
He  has  the  wear  and  tear  of  shouting  from  the  summit 
of  the  hill  to  those  at  the  base,  instead  of  having  the 
pleasure  of  talking  without  exertion  from  its  base  to  those 
on  its  summit  or  its  sides.  This  horse -shoe  rising  seat 
form,  which  was  invariably  adhered  to  by  the  ancients, 
and  has  been  perpetuated  by  the  architects  of  theatres  to 
this  day,  was  doubtless  suggested  by  the  out- door  ex- 
perience of  public  assemblies.  They  gathered  on  the  sides 
of  the  hill,  and  the  speaker  stood  at  the  bottom.  Who- 
ever has  spoken  in  a  theatre  or  opera-house  knows  how 
much  easier  and  more  agreeable  it  is  to  speak  there  than 


148  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

in  a  church,  and  whoever   has  been  a  listener  to  both 

sermon  and  drama  will  note  how  easy  it  is  to  hear  even 

the  bungled  whispers  of  the  actors,  and  how  difficult  it  is 

to  catch  the  words  of  the  most  painstaking  preacher. 

Again,  every  hearer  should  be  able  to  see  the  speaker, 

since   seeing    him    plainly  is  indispensa- 

The  Speaker     ble   to   hearing   him  distinctly    and    un- 

*"d  "e*rer      derstanding  him  perfectly.    This  is  self- 
Should  See  &          / 
Each  Other       evident  and   needs  no  argument ;  but  it 

needs  iteration  and  reiteration.  "  My 
people  will  not  consider,"  or  they  would  not  be  car- 
ried away  by  a  pretty  "elevation,"  without  consider- 
ing whether  it  is  rational  or  absurd  with  reference  to 
the  all-important  matter  of  hearing  and  speaking.  It 
is  impossible  for  one  half  of  the  people  on  the  level 
floor  of  our  churches  to  see  their  preacher  without 
twisting  their  heads,  which  is  one  of  the  universal 
"  bodily  exercises  "  of  our  Sunday  congregations.  And 
if  you  lean  aside  you  are  sure  to  obstruct  the  view 
of  some  fellow-listener,  who  must  also  change  his  posi- 
tion in  order  to  do  what  the  architect  should  have  enabled 
him  to  do  without  leaning  to  the  right  or  left — look  the 
speaker  full  in  the  face.  In  a  properly  constructed 
semi-circular  auditory,  a  straight  line  could  be  drawn  from 
the  mouth  of  the  speaker  to  the  eye  of  every  hearer, 
without  going  through  anybody's  head.  This  can  be 
done  if  the  proper  gradations  are  observed  in  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  floor,  and  the  proper  proportions  are  obtained 
in  the  construction  of  the  semi-circular  or  horse-shoe 
form.  When  these  gradations  and  proportions  are  se- 
cured, the  speaker  will  be  able  to  look  every  one  of  his 
hearers  square  in  the  eyes  without  turning  his  face  to 
the  right  hand  or  to  the  left — which,  by  the  way,  is  one 
of  the  bad  habits  of  preachers. 


THE    RIGHT   SHAPE   FOE   AN   AUDIENCE-BOOM.        149 

The   platform   pulpit   of  this   country  is  immensely 
superior  to  the  lofty  tubs   of  Great  Britain,   but   one 
considerable  step  more  will  have  to  be 
taken    before    the    American    pulpit    is      Architecture 

constructed   with  •  reference  to  the  pew     Should  not  be 
,.  ,,      i  £  ,.  mi        an  Obstruction 

according  to  the  laws  of  acoustics.     1  he        t    publi 

American  preacher  is  still  at  the  wrong  Speaking, 
end  of  the  hypothenuse,  and  still  has 
some  excuse  for  resorting  to  the  bellow  and  yell  in 
the  utterance  of  passages  which  should  be  spoken  in 
a  colloquial  tone.  But  whether  he  is  excusable  for 
submitting  to  the  oblong,  level-floored  form  of  audience- 
room  in  which  he  is  to  preach  is  another  question.  He 
certainly  ought  to  know  that  the  more  exertion  he  is 
obliged  to  use  in  making  himself  heard,  the  less  he  will 
have  with  which  to  make  himself  felt.  He  should  have 
the  full  use  of  his  faculties  and  powers  without  drag 
or  embarrassment  from  the  ill-construction  or  malforma- 
tion of  the  place  in  which  he  speaks.  There  should  be 
nothing  in  the  form  or  shape  of  the  auditory  calculated 
to  prevent  what  the  speaker  has  to  say  from  being  spoken 
and  heard  with  perfect  ease.  The  lowest  conversational 
tones  should  be  heard  as  distinctly  in  a  church  as  in  a 
theatre  ;  and  they  will  be  when  (as  in  the  case  of  the 
Brooklyn  Tabernacle)  the  auditory  of  the  church  is  con- 
structed on  the  same  principles  as  that  of  the  theatre. 
In  the  old  countries  the  university  and  scientific  lecture 
rooms  are  all  constructed  in  this  raised-seat  form,  and 
so  are  a  few  halls  in  this  country ;  but  in  the  case  of 
several  modern  churches  and  halls,  there  is  the  merest 
beginning.  The  reform  has  only  learned  to  creep.  It 
will  be  a  long  while  before  it  will  be  able  to  walk  erect 
and  show  itself  equal  to  the  task  of  confronting  one  of 
the  most  perverse  of  perversities. 


150  BEFORE    AN   AUDIENCE. 

The  speaker  should  stand  with  his  back,  as  near  as  may 
be,  to  a  solid  wall,  between  the  calks  of  the  horse-shoe. 

Indeed,    one   of  the   most   important  of 
Hard  Walls.       ,,  '    ...          .  ,         .    ' 

the  conditions  for  easy  hearing  and  easy 

speaking  is,  that  the  walls  of  the  auditory  should  be 
constructed  of  stone,  the  thicker  the  better.  Wooden 
walls  are  resonant,  especially  when  they  are  hollow, 
as  is  the  case  with  lath-and-plaster  walls.  The  surface 
of  the  wall  should  be  plain  stone,  which  sheds  the 
sound  without  absorbing  or  mangling  it.  Of  course 
it  may  be  said  wooden  walls  "will  do."  Yes,  any- 
thing "  will  do  ;"  wooden  heads  will  do,  a  wall  made 
of  drums  laid  side  to  side  will  do — so  will  a  tin  pan 
roofed  in,  if  it  is  big  enough.  We  are  not  talking  about 
what  will  do — or  rather  we  are  talking  about,  and 
against,  what  will  "  do  "  the  speaker,  or  preacher,  bj 
tearing  his  throat,  and  wearing  his  nerves,  and  prema- 
turely bringing  on  the  "  Whereas  it  has  pleased  Divine 
Providence,"  etc. 

Furthermore,  this  amphitheatre  (which  means  "  to  see 
about")  and  rising-seat  form  of  auditory,  which  enables 
the  hearer  to  see  and  hear  the  preacher  equally  well  in 
all  parts  of  the  church,  leaves  all  the  pews  equally  eligi- 
ble and  desirable,  and  prevents  that  enormous  difference 
in  their  "  valuation,"  which  is  so  common  in  churches 
where  the  rich  meet  together.  In  some  of  these  oblong, 
level-floored  churches  one  third  the  seats  are  simply  un- 
endurable, and,  so  far  from  wondering  why  they  are  never, 
the  wonder  is  that  they  are  ever  rented. 

The  Play-  The  audience-room  of  the  house  of  God 

5.°uJ!e  JVght'      is  constructed  in  impudent  defiance  of  His 
God's  House  r  .     , 

Wrong         laws  °*  acoustics,  while  the  playhouse  is 

constructed  in  obedience  to  those  laws.    A 
conversational  tone  may  be   heard   in  any  part  of   the 


THE    RIGHT   SHAPE   FOR   AN   AUDIENCE-ROOM.        151 

theatre — must  be,  indeed,  or  the  drama  fails  ;  and  the 
failure  of  ordinary  colloquial  cadences  in  a  church  is  a 
failure  of  a  fundamental  element  in  all  public  speaking 
— the  colloquial  element. 

No  comedian  would  endure,  in  the  way  of  a  wearing- 
tearing  audience-room,  for  one  evening,  what  preachers 
will  bear  with  and  die  of  every  Sunday,  year  in  and  year 
out ;  and  the  ordaining  clergy,  together  with  all  the 
solemn  divines  who  launch  the  theological  graduates,  and 
the  entire  bureau  of  anonymous  advisers  of  the  parsons 
yea,  and  the  whole  noble  army  of  pulpit  martyrs  may 
continue  to  iterate  and  reiterate  their  panacea  of  "Be 
in  earnest,"  and  "Be  natural,"  until  Gabriel's  trump 
shall  wake  the  dead,  and  not  one  building  committee  or 
church  will  awake  even  then  to  a  sense  of  their  responsi- 
bility for  these  stumbling-blocks  to  the  Gospel. 

Let  us  hope  that  the  dav  will  come  when  building 
committees,  and  churches  that  are  put  in  trust  with  the 
Gospel,  and  preachers  whose  very  lives  are  at  stake,  will 
not  allow  themselves  to  be  ensnared  by  the  "  Gothic" 
nonsense  of  a  "  florid  "  architect,  but  will  insist,  first  of 
all,  and  last  of  all,  that  it  shall  be  at  least  as  easy  to  hear 
and  see  where  the  Gospel  is  preached,  as  where  the 
comedian  splits  the  ears  of  the  groundlings,  and  the 
minstrels  dance  in  clogs. 

To  recapitulate  : 

I.  The  horse-shoe  form,  with  the  speak- 

,_,  ,,          „  Recapitulation, 

er  between  the  calks. 

II.  No  angles  or  recesses   or  projections  before,  be 
side,  or  behind  the  speaker. 

III.  The  seats  so  elevated  and  graduated  as  to  put  the 
speaker  in  full  view  of  every  hearer,  and  every  hearer  in 
full  view  of  the  speaker,  without  his  being  obliged   to 
change  his  position. 


152  BEFORE   AN   AUDIENCE. 

The  harder  the  walls  the  better  for  articulate  sound ; 
but  as  stone  and  brick  are  often  out  of  the  question, 
there  is  no  need  of  worrying  over  their  absence.  But 
the  absence  of  these  three  conditions,  or  any  one  of  them, 
is  a  sin  to  be  repented  of  and  forsaken  in  the  sight  of 
God. 

The  lower  the  ceiling  the  better,  and  the  less  waste 
space  in  it  the  better.  If  you  have  a  vast  and  lofty  ceil- 
ing without  galleries,  the  audience  will  hear  better  seated 
on  the  under  side  of  the  roof  than  on  the  upper  side  of 
the  floor.  The  echo  in  an  audience-room  is  the  jeer  of 
science  at  the  perversity  of  man.  It  says,  Ha  !  ha  I 
Where  is  now  their  God  of  acoustics  1 


THE  END. 


HERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  049  662     o 


